


You're the Blood On My Lips

by misfitmonarchy



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Stiles, Creature Stiles Stilinski, Good Peter, Jackson Whittemore is Part of the Pack, M/M, Minor Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Minor Character Death, Minor Cora Hale/Lydia Martin, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pack Bonding, Pack Feels, Panic Attacks, Sheriff Stilinski's Name is John, Slow Build Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Slow Burn, Stiles Has Panic Attacks, True Alpha Scott McCall, Vampire Stiles Stilinski, Vampires, Werewolf Jackson Whittemore
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-24
Updated: 2019-06-08
Packaged: 2019-06-15 16:34:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 26,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15417063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misfitmonarchy/pseuds/misfitmonarchy
Summary: “So, what are you…Vegan?”“I- well no I still eat meat it just–look, I used to be human too y’know, and drinking blood from people just feels…weird.”___For the majority of the last year, Stiles has been MIA. When Scott finally tracks him down, his human best friend isn't quite as... well human.After being bit by a vampire, Stiles left town in order to ensure he wouldn't hurt anyone he cared about. But other than the change in his diet, he hasn't really confronted his loss of humanity, and sees himself as more monster than anything else. Scott brings him home and though the pack welcomes him, it's going to take a lot of healing before Stiles can allow himself the luxury of trust again. Not to mention Derek smells stupidly good and it's going to drive him off the edge.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Welcome to my hot mess! 
> 
> When I started this, I was planning on finishing it before posting any of it, so that I could create a schedule and everything but I'm kind of too in love with the plot to wait until then. So I'm slowly going to start posting it in short chapters and I really hope you all fall in love with it as much as I have!
> 
> Please remember to COMMENT, leave KUDOS and BOOKMARK if you like it!
> 
> I also have a tumblr: misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com where you can visit me and ask questions!!

“So, what are you…Vegan?”

“I- well no I still eat meat it just– _look_ , I used to be human too y’know, and drinking blood from _people_ just feels… _weird_.”

Scott seems to be a little wary still, no matter how many times Stiles explains it. After getting turned into a vampire, he’d taken off and no one had any clue where Stiles had gone. His dad was the only one he’d contacted, just so the man knew he was okay. John had done everything he could to convince Stiles to come home- but Stiles had refused.

He wouldn’t be able to face his dad until he could control himself. He was still new to this and the thirst for blood was so terrifyingly strong that the first time Stiles had fed- some poor kid his age named Donovan.... He’d killed the guy.

That face still haunted his dreams. The whimpering begging that Stiles hadn’t heard at the moment but had been scraped up by his subconscious to torture him.

Stiles hadn’t even known that vampires _slept_. Twilight had set some very unrealistic standards for him.

Such as, werewolves and vampires were polar opposites. Somehow, after he’d come to terms with what he was- Stiles had convinced himself the pack would just want to kill him. It was completely _irrational_.

Because here Scott was, on Stiles’ couch of his shitty one bedroom apartment, begging Stiles to explain what happened. The young alpha looked like hell too.

“So you only feed on animals? Does that even work the same way? Lydia said that-”

“I mean, it’s not really the _exact_ same. But I can’t just go around killing people Scott.” Stiles wrings his hands together. Ever since that dark night when he’d been jumped, he’s had a never ending coldness in his bones.

“Stiles.” Scott knows him too well, must know that the sickly complexion isn’t so much a vampire thing as a Stiles thing. It was true that animal blood sustained him. Some animals actually had more blood than humans did. It was fine- it worked well enough. It’s been almost a whole year since fleeing California and moving to Canada.

If his dad had really wanted to, he knows the man would have come sooner. He wonders if the pack has told him what really happened- that his son was a monster now. From the looks of it though, the pack hadn't known at all, if Scott's surprise was anything to go by.

“Scott- I-” Stiles sucks down a desperate breath. He knows what Scott wants, for Stiles to come home- to try and _fix_ Stiles. But there’s nothing to fix. This _curse_ isn’t going away anytime soon.

“Just come home. We... _I_ miss you. You’re my brother...” Stiles looks over at the alpha, who’s eyes are brimmed with tears. How the hell could Stiles turn that down? He feels like throwing up with all the guilt that sinks into his bones until it hurts.

“I _can’t_.” He chokes out. Scott shakes his head.

“You _can_ . Stiles, we’re going to figure this out. No matter what. So what if you like your steak extra rare-” Stiles can’t help but snort a little, loosening the tight knot of guilt just a little. “Stiles, you’re pack. And I can’t just turn around and _leave_ after I just found you again.”

Stiles can’t turn down Scott- not like this. The man he’s known since he was four. And Scott is a _man_ now. Stiles might have missed Scott’s eighteenth birthday, but he hadn’t forgotten at all. A sob chokes out of his chest. Before Stiles can protest he’s got an armful of alpha werewolf.

He didn’t realize how badly he needed one of Scott’s _Patented McCall_ _Hugs_ until it’s tightening around his chest and pulling him close. Scott’s body is hot, warmer than Stiles has felt in months to the point it’s almost too much.

Stiles doesn’t pull away, he just grasps the now crying friend he’d left behind. His _brother_.

“You’re freezing!” Scott complains when Stiles’ presses his face into the alpha’s shoulder. Stiles only lets out a huff of laughter-

“Yeah that comes with the whole _vampire thing,_ Scotty.” It was still hard to say that word, mostly because Stiles had isolated himself and had spent the past eleven months trying to suppress that part of him. He hadn’t talked about it with many people- just one or two rogue vampires online about control.

Scott must notice how his too-slow-heartbeat jumps because he squeezes Stiles tighter. “I’m not complaining.” He says softly, and Stiles notices belatedly that the wolf is scent marking him, a face pressing into his shoulder and huffing out small breaths while his hands roam Stiles’ back. He wonders if Scott always did this and Stiles hadn’t noticed due to his dulled human senses- or if it was the result of not seeing him in so long.

He doesn’t bother pointing out that he can tell the difference now, between casual touches and possessive scenting. He thinks Scott has earned a little possessiveness after Stiles skipped town suddenly and never looked back a year ago.

They sit there for a while, before Scott’s temperature is too much ( _at least that’s what Stiles tells himself is the cause of the churn in the pit of his belly as he pulls back_ ) and he asks what Scott plans to do now.

“How did you even _find_ me?”

“Your dad told me.” _Of course._ Stiles wonders how long the man has known where Stiles was- he hadn’t exactly tried his hardest to conceal his location, payphones weren’t particularly hard to track with the right kind of help.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I don’t think he really wanted to at first- but he knows something happened. For a long time I think he got the idea that it had something to do with the pack.” Stiles cringes. Maybe he should have at least thought out a story better than ‘ _I just needed to get away from Beacon Hills_ ’. It wasn’t a lie but it was definitely way too vague.

“Shit. I’m sorry, he didn’t like… shoot anyone did he?” He wouldn’t put it past Dad, if he truly thought any of the pack hurt him. John Stilinski was a fair man, but even a fair man can lose his head when his only son suddenly takes off in the night without a trace.

Scott chuckles a little. “No. Well- he did come pretty close to shooting Peter… But that probably had more to do with Peter being _well-”_

 _“Himself?_ ” Scott nods and it pulls another huff of laughter from Stiles.

“Yeah. I think Peter might have known what um.. What happened to you? That night you took off he was acting weird. I don’t know the details, he’s still an omega so…” Stiles nods. Peter wasn’t pack, so Scott wouldn’t be able to force the beta to tell him anything he didn’t want to.

“I wouldn’t be surprised… Peter does have a bad habit of knowing just where to find trouble.” Stiles busies his hands with fidgeting. “Scott… Why did  you come here?”

“What do you mean, why? To bring you home- Stiles-”

“No, I mean, why _now_?” If Dad had given Scott his location, he likes to think that he wouldn’t do it without good reason. Stiles wonders if something bad has happened back home. The knot in his chest is like a noose around his heart. “Is Dad okay?”

“What? No, no your dad’s fine.” Scott isn’t lying, Stiles can hear his steady heartbeat with a little concentration. He notices how Scott doesn’t particularly deny that everything is fine though.

“Scott…”

“I didn’t want you to worry. I really did come because I wanted to find you- to talk-”

“But?” Stiles interjects. Scott’s face is twisted in a constipated expression, there’s obviously something _else_ that has happened. The alpha watches Stiles carefully- with those anxious eyes that had faced him on his doorstep this morning at 6am. It was almost 8:30 now, they’d been talking for longer than he’d thought.

“But.” Scott confirms with a disappointed nod. The alpha had been planning on convincing Stiles to come home first, to know he was _wanted_ back home before they breached this subject- but he can’t lie to his best friend. “There’s also a situation… we think there might be a- uh- coven. In Beacon Hills.” Stiles sighs, not hiding his exasperation.

“And you think I can help? Scott I left because of vampire drama- I don’t want to go back..”

“It’s not the sole reason I’m here Stiles. I _told you_. We miss you.”

“I don’t know if I’ll even be any help-”

“I’m not asking you to help. I’m asking for my brother to come _home._ ”

_Seriously. How can Stiles say no to this guy?_

“I… Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah but you’ve gotta help me pack and tell me how everyone’s been.” Scott grins wide, diving back in for another tight hug. Stiles doesn’t want to think about how before it would have been overwhelmingly tight and now it was just like a regular hug. He hadn’t really confronted the loss of his humanity- he’d kind of just accepted the change of diet and learned how to meditate.

Vampire or not- Stiles was still a Stilinski. And if Stilinski men did anything well, it was the artful skill of denial.

***

They drive from New-Brunswick, Canada to California together over the course of several days. Stiles had cried when Scott had told him he’d brought the Jeep. Stiles had left it behind when he’d left, running on foot at first until he’d been five counties away and took a bus the night he’d run away. He’d feared the Jeep would either break down or be recognized- and maybe the fact that it was his mothers and he hadn’t wanted to taint it with the blood on his hands that night.

“Allison and Isaac are dating now. It’s a bit weird but I’m not as upset as I wanted to be.” Scott tells him as they’re passing back into the states, leaving the border security behind them. Stiles isn’t really surprised, in fact he thinks it might good for Scott. The guy was always too blinded by Allison to think straight when it came to important things ( _like bestfriends drowning in pools_ ).

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah- I mean, don’t get me wrong, I _definitely_ was a dick to Isaac for the first few weeks but… They’re pack. If they’re happy it’s kind of hard to be mad. Maybe it’s an alpha thing? I can feel through the bonds how happy they are, it feels wrong to be mad about that.”

Stiles nods, as if he has a clue what a pack bond feels like. Scott tried to describe it to him before, before Stiles had left. But it never quite made sense and he figures now he probably won’t have the chance to experience that. Derek had mentioned a long time ago about humans being able to kind of feel those bonds, because there were humans in packs.

But Stiles wasn’t… He wasn’t human anymore. It didn’t matter anyways.

“Oh! And Kira’s been training with those Skinwalkers. Or- well she’s trying. I think she actually really hates it, no matter how much better she’s getting. Last I saw her, she had managed to short out the whole block.” Stiles doesn’t know if that’s a bad thing or not. He’s stuck on the part where Scott said _Last time he saw her_.

Just how long had Scott been looking for him?

“I’m sorry.” He blurts, not sure if it’s for separating the pack from their alpha, or for everything else. Scott looks over from the highway road they’re on.

“What? Dude, no. Don’t-”

“No- Just- Scott. I mean it.” Stiles runs fingers through his messy hair. He’s thinking of shaving it again- if only because the feel of it brushing his forehead bothers him when he’s so used to not having to deal with it- and don’t even get him _started_ on trying to make it look decent most days. “I should have come to you guys. No matter how scared I was I- it was a dick move.”

Scott is quiet for a long time, seeming to digest the words. His hands are tight on the wheel.

“Yeah. It was.” He agrees after almost ten minutes. Stiles relaxes as the knot loosens again in his chest. He feels a little boneless against the Jeep seat. His eyes focus on the road.

“I’m sorry.”

“I know.”

The entire trip takes them almost three days, they take turns driving and Stiles didn’t realize how much he missed his baby until he was behind the wheel while Scott snored beside him. Though he did sleep still, even now that he was _undead_ , he tried to avoid it around Scott. The alpha had enough to worry about- Stiles didn’t want to make it worse with the nightmares.

By the time they were entering Beacon Hills, it was early morning and Scott had nudged him awake.

Stiles gurgled out a groan tiredly, but was wide awake when he caught sight of the _Welcome to Beacon Hills_ sign. “Shit.. I’m really doing this..” He sighs tiredly.

He really wants to see his dad- and really doesn’t at the same time. Scott must know this because instead of driving to Stiles’ house, they pull up at the dingy motel in town. It’s a piece of crap that is mostly used by cheating husbands and the like but in that moment Stiles is greatful.

“You’re sure?” Scott nods, but Stiles doesn’t miss how Scott’s nose is flared at the foreign smells on their shared room.

“Yeah, man. It’s way too early to think about anything other than sleep right now.”

Stiles doesn’t call him out on his lie, just flops onto the nearest bed. It reeks of different scents and overwhelmingly strong lavender detergent. Stiles kind of wants to puke at the scent, and thinks back to how he’s only had blood from very rare steaks the past three days.

If it weren’t for his heightened senses, he wouldn’t have even registered Scott locking their room door before the alpha also flopped down. It wasn’t the first time they’d shared a bed, and it was cheaper too. Stiles didn’t care that Scott was already scenting him again before he fell asleep.

The body heat was a welcome feeling and it soothed him into a dreamless sleep for a few hours.

When he woke up they’d have to confront all of the drama he’d left behind- so he just tried not to focus too much on the throb of Scott’s pulse, or the sound of blood rushing through veins in the body next to him.

Stiles would have to have a chat with Scott about cuddling hungry vampires. It was kind of a stupid idea- and he was lucky that Stiles was more of a furry friends type of guy these days.

Instead Stiles focuses on the _warmth_ that oozes from Scott. And if they spoon a little? Well that’s just a secret between best friends.

“ _OW!_ ” Was the noise that woke him up, startling Stiles into jumping away from Scott. “ _Dude did you just bite me?!_ ” Squawked the alpha.

Looking down, Stiles sees the bed, Scott and a bloody mark on the guy’s forearm. _Shit!_

“Fuck!” He immediately backs away, holding a hand over his mouth. Now that he’s awake, Stiles can definitely taste the blood in his mouth- he tries not to focus on how good it tastes compared to what he’s had the past week.

Scott is watching him wide eyed and half awake as the wound heals. Stiles feels like the air has been sucked dry from the room. Suddenly he’s in the bathroom and he barely remembers rushing inside with supernatural speed before he’s throwing up violently into the toilet.

He’ll never get over how disturbing it is that whenever he’s sick it’s bloody and red now. Even if his diet has a lot of blood in it- there’s a little human part of his brain that still panics a little whenever he sees it.

“Stiles! It’s fine, I didn’t mean to yell-” Stiles can hear the alpha try to reassure him but all that he can think is _fuck fuck fuck_ . He hasn’t even been in Beacon Hills for _a day_ and he’s already hurt someone. He’s hurt _Scott_. Of all people. Biting an alpha werewolf on his first day back probably isn’t going to make his transition home very easy.

 _Fuck_.

“Calm down. It’s fine…” The panic is blinding his thoughts too much, he hadn’t realized he was speaking thoughts out loud as the nausea passes. He didn’t want Scott to see him like _this_. “Look at me, Stiles.” Scott demands with a flash of red eyes.

He’s not some beta wolf though, and resists the pull, flashing his own at Scott. He imagines they’re probably red, if not because he’d tried to feed in his sleep- then because he’d just emptied his stomach of everything he’s had since their impromptu road trip.

“Scott-” Stiles’ voice is a wreck, slurred a little by fangs that tore through his gums and are _aching_ for a vein to pierce. He chokes out a sob. It was an accident! He hadn’t meant for this to happen- _God he can’t breathe_ -

“Stiles. Breathe.” It takes them a long time before Stiles isn’t panicking anymore, and even then, Stiles can’t manage to meet the alpha’s eyes.

“I’m-”

“Cut it out man. I’m fine. It’s already healed.” Scott frowns in a way that all Stiles can think of is one of those puppies that tries to act macho but really _isn’t_.

“But I-” _I bit you._ _I’m dangerous. I’m a mons-_

“No. It’s fine. I already told you, we’re going to figure this out. You’re my brother Stiles. Plus, it’s not like this is the first time you’ve bitten me.” Scott teases, reminding Stiles of all their playful spats over the years.

It’s true, but it is the first time he’s done it as a fucking _vampire_.

“I’m dangerous, Scott.” His throat is hoarse from throwing up, he imagines his usual sickly pallor is much worse now. He’d need to go hunting soon.

“So am I. So is the entire pack. You think you’re any different? You were asleep, Stiles. It’s not like you meant to do it.” But he _had_. Because Scott’s blood- an alpha’s blood- it smelled so good. Full of power that felt like someone had given him a dose of adrenaline. Stiles has to look away from Scott’s neck, where he’d zoned in on it.

He wants to argue, but Scott’s not having it. So he just huffs loudly to express his exasperation. It’s nearly noon now, and Scott seems to think their five hour nap is good enough because he herds Stiles back to the Jeep.

It feels too soon to be seeing any of the pack, and he’s eternally grateful when Scott pulls off the main road to the preserve instead. “Where are we going?” He demands though, because he really doesn’t know why they’re taking the detour.

“You need to feed, right?”

Oh. _He really doesn’t want Scott to be here to witness that._ “Yeah.” He answers though, because the control that he has getting harder to grasp- even with the windows down in the Jeep to filter out Scott’s scent.

“I want to go for a run anyways. I’ve been in a Jeep for most of the week. Stiles is reminded then that not only had Scott come to get him, but he’d driven the 3 days there to find Stiles in the first place. He can’t imagine being in such a cramped space for nearly seven whole days. He thinks he would have spontaneously combusted if they’d needed to take even one more day.

“Um. Right. But what I don’t..” Stiles bites his lip, worried he might hurt Scott’s feelings. He might have wanted to stay with Stiles while he hunted, to make sure he didn’t go off track and eat a hiker or something.

Scott seems to clue in when he tilts his head. “But you don’t want me to come with you.” He finishes.

“It’s just- I don’t want you to see me like that. It’s not pretty.”

“Stiles do you really think it’s anything I’ve never seen? I’ve seen the kills that Derek’s brought back when he’s a wolf.” He sighs, reminding Stiles that his best friend _really did_ understand. He wasn’t giving Scott enough credit.

 _Still_.

“Please.”

The alpha watches him, his face a mask that is startlingly similar to Deaton’s blank look. He seems to be analyzing Stiles, which makes his anxiety spike up horribly. Not to mention there were so many heartbeats fluttering around him. A rabbit in the bushes a mile away is really distracting him from this conversation. Deeper in, he thinks he can hear the sounds of deer.

Stiles swallows heavily before Scott gives him a little nod. “I’ll keep my distance. Just give a shout when you’re done.” Scott offers. Stiles nods before he’s taking off.

“ _Holy shit- Dude!_ You’re fucking fast!” Scott calls behind him, but Stiles is honed in on the sound of deer deep in the heart of the preserve. There’s two of them, and he can feel his fangs drop through with that twinging pinch as they tear through his gums. His eyes are burning and the world fades slightly in color as the animal part of his brain takes over.

He still has control, but he lets himself loosen the reigns a bit. He’s not in the city now, he doesn’t have to slow down to a normal pace. Stiles is a blur as he stalks his prey, not wasting time in tracking it or waiting for it to be standing still. He pounces on the doe the moment he sees her, tackling her and catching her by the jugular with his fangs.

Stiles doesn’t want to think about how the body beneath him twitches violently. He remembers to kill her mercifully instead of just draining her, drinking the deer’s blood soothes the ache that’s been flaring up since he bit Scott earlier. It’s similar to how it feels to drink a hot cup of coffee when you’re bleary and tired on a cold morning.

He moans softly, taking his fill and licking his lips.

“Shit..” _Hungrier than I thought._ He realizes, that even a fully matured deer, doesn’t seem to fill him. He seeks out a few more animals, two rabbits and racoon ( _okay, ew but he was starving._ ) before he’s satisfied enough.

“Jesus Christ-” Scott flinches when he meets up with Stiles. And that, was why he hadn’t wanted Scott to see him hunt. The werewolf gives him a once over, taking in his bloodied shirt and mouth. Stiles had tried to wipe it best he could, and hoped that at least the blood distracted Scott enough to not notice the tear tracks on his face.

He still had a hard time killing- even if it was a matter of survival.

“You look like-”

“A murderer?” Stiles cuts in, quiet and defensive. He smiles a little, trying to joke it off but Scott sees through him- his best friend always had.

“That’s not what I was going to say.”

“Oh? Then what?”

“I was going to say you look like Carrie.” Scott grins, ignoring the way Stiles had rolled his eyes.

“Shut up.”

“You shut up.” Scott says back, shoving his shoulder as if Stiles wasn’t looking an awful lot like Freddy Kruger right now.

Stiles smiles genuinely for the first time since he’s seen Scott. Because apparently, nothing has changed like he’d been afraid it would. _Scott wasn’t treating him like a monster_.

“I missed you.” Stiles says quietly as he’s pulling off his shirt and accepting a new one Scott was handing him. He didn’t ask why Scott had one of Derek’s henleys in the back of the Jeep- he didn’t feel shameful either when he pressed it to his face to take in the scent either.

It smelled like the beta. In a way that Stiles hadn’t ever known with his dull human nose. The black henley, Scott explained, with that stupid knowing smile- was left after one night Derek had shifted into a wolf to run home and the sheriff had gathered his clothes.

“Totally forgot they were in there.” Scott shrugs. Stiles picks out the scent of Derek’s sweat, it reminds him of pine and whiskey. He doesn’t know what to make of those smells.

“Dad was driving the Jeep?”

“Yeah- after you left… He did for a while. I think it was his way of coping. He’s missed you.”

As if Scott even needed to say it. Stiles pulls the henley on, using the Jeep’s mirrors to clean off his face the best he could with the little bit of water left in his bottle. Scott doesn’t dwell on it though.

“Did you tell him?”

“No. You’re the only one who knows. After I figured out what was happening to me I- I didn’t want to hurt anyone, Scott. I couldn’t…” He shook his head. Scott seemed to understand, but didn’t seem happy. He imagines Scott would have rathered that Stiles had come to the pack.

Even now, Stiles knows he probably would have done the same thing all over again just like he had the first time. After all his training he’d put himself through- he’d already tried to bite Scott. And his control now, after having fed; still didn’t stop him from thinking about the taste of alpha blood.

A sweet sugary taste, not unlike boiled icing; that made him feel as if he’d been shot full of adrenaline. Nevermind that he’d thrown it up seconds afterwards.

“You should.” Scott hums, while they’re climbing back into the Jeep, this time Stiles is the one in the driver’s seat. He grips the wheel tightly and only checks himself when it groans in protest. “He’s going to find out eventually.” Scott tries to placate him but Stiles just glares at the road.

He doesn’t want to think about Dad, how he’ll react to any of this. If how he’d reacted to the supernatural world was any hints- he had a feeling that the man wasn’t going to be particularly happy his son wasn’t even _human_. Not anymore.

Scott doesn’t bring it up again, but he does convince Stiles that it’s time to at least see his dad and-

Yeah. Stiles agrees that its a good idea.

“I need a favor.” He says when Scott doesn’t make any movement to follow him out of the Jeep.

“Yeah?”

“Can you just… Come in with me. Y’know? In case…”

“Uh, yeah. Okay.” Scott seems surprised, Stiles still hasn’t had the heart to meet the alpha’s eyes properly yet. He double checks he doesn’t have blood on him before raising his hand to the door.

It flies open before he can even knock, and arms are locking around him like a grappling hook.

“Stiles!”

“Wha- Dad!” He chokes out, greeting the graying man. He can’t see him, but he feels more fragile now than the last time he’d hugged him. Stiles breathes in deeply, taking in his father’s scent. He smells like gunpowder, some kind of spicy aftershave and like he’s been bathing in coffee. At least there’s no lingering smells of liquor. In fact it makes him a little proud of his dad, for not drinking away his worries like usually did.

“Just so we’re clear- I am _pissed as hell_ that you took off.” Stiles nods softly against him. Dad’s voice wavers slightly, and Stiles can’t even find any words to say. His throat is too thick and all he wants in this moment is to stay in these arms, listen to the pulse that’s thudding like crazy just under his dad’s skin. _Just a taste…_

The thought has him pulling away stiffly, holding a hand over his face. Scott is there though, a hand on his back as they come inside the house.

“What’s with you? You’re… different- Jesus stiles, you look like you just came from a morgue.” Dad says but it’s lost somewhere.

He doesn’t know why it’s only striking him so harshly now, he could definitely smell it the night he’d been turned, and he knows it was clinging to his dad under those primary smells- but the most vague hint of Mom’s old perfume hits him-

And Stiles can’t think straight.

It’s like someone has knocked the wind right out of his chest. “I-” He chokes on the word, holding hands over his mouth tightly. Scott is trying to get him to say something but all Stiles feels is the overwhelming grief like a twenty ton truck is sitting on his chest.

 _Shit_ . _Shit Dad is freaking out- Control yourself!_

Stiles whirls around from where he had taken a few steps into the house. He’s not sure _when_ he started crying, only that he can’t breathe and he’s not sure he ever wants to again. It’s too much. It’s all-

 _Too much_.

The feeling he’d had this morning, when he’d realized what he’d done is rushing back and it’s all he can do not to throw up on the carpet. Scott and his dad’s voices are behind him and in seconds he’s off the property.

 _If Dad didn’t think something was wrong before, he definitely does now_.

“STILES! STOP! STILES!” Scott calls after him, muttering some kind of apology to his father before Stiles can hear pursuing footsteps after him.

He’s faster than Scott, and he’s halfway into the preserve before he even lets himself breathe. The world spins a little as he chokes it down- only getting a few seconds of reprieve before he’s hit by what he assumes is Scott. The werewolf swears and tries to stop but they both fall anyways.

“Stiles! Christ, what the hell was that, man? Are you okay?” His best friend is frantic, and Stiles just pants for air a few moments, staying on his back where Scott had unintentionally tackled him.

Scott is sitting beside him, worried. It’s not that Stiles notices the sky is surprisingly cloudy for California. In Canada he’d gotten so used to the cold and dreary skies that it had taken him a minute to remember that Beacon Hills was usually sunny and summery all the time.

“Sorry.” Is all he can wheeze as he closes his eyes, focusing on his breaths to calm himself down. He still feels like throwing up, it’s all he can do to focus on that instead of how much he’d wanted to bite his dad just minutes ago.

Scott doesn’t answer, just watches him with that worried pinch in his brow- the one where he purses his lips and you can see how his jaw clenches like he’s chewing on what to say but instead keeps it to himself, watching quietly. Stiles waits until the nausea has passed, letting Scott do whatever it is he’s tapping away at on his cell while he recovers. The brunet alpha is still laid on the ground beside him, the two of them probably look like idiots on the ground in the middle of the preserve but Stiles finds it hard to care.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack is taken by surprise when Stiles returns after cutting ties and disappearing for almost a whole year

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A new chapter! I was trying so hard to hold back from posting but aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa I can't help it! 
> 
> I'm so very excited to for you guys to tell me what you think! Don't forget to drop by and say hi on tumblr! misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com
> 
> COMMENTS and KUDOS are appreciated

“I wanted to bite him. I panicked.” Stiles says up at the cloudy sky, that make the atmosphere look like it’s all one big white cloud above them, he squints at it as he gets a grip of himself. 

Scott doesn’t say anything. Stiles doesn’t think there really is anything  _ to say _ . It’s not like Scott had known what to do- Scott had as much of a clue as Stiles did. 

“What do you usually do? When it’s bad? Is there like… a mantra or something?” 

Stiles hummed. “Yeah. Meditating, focusing on a heartbeat usually does it but- I just… When I went inside it…”

Scott waits him out. Eventually Stiles spills his guts to the alpha, telling him what really caused the panic attack. He’s relieved that Scott is understanding enough. They’ve been through weirder things, this shouldn’t be so  _ hard _ . 

Or maybe it had  always been this hard, Stiles just had been oblivious to  _ this side _ of the supernatural incidents they’d dealt with. “We’ll work it out. Think you can handle seeing the pack? It’d be the best place to put you for now.” 

_ No. He doesn’t think he can.  _ But he doesn’t say so. He’s cause enough trouble for Scott already, the least he can do is try. “Yeah.” He nods, swallowing down his protests. After the shit show with his dad, he just wants to go to bed and not move for a few days. He never should have agreed to come back to Beacon Hills. 

Stiles lets Scott lead them out of the preserve, grateful when the wolf doesn’t take them back the way they came. Being a vampire isn’t what he’d thought it would be like, that was for sure. He compared notes with Scott, and really though it’s not exactly the same, they’re close enough that Scott seems determined being with the pack will help. 

Scott doesn’t ask him  _ how _ it happened. That helps a little as they talk. He’s missed this- his  _ person _ . 

“Hey, before we uh… go in. I should tell you that no one knows you’re back. I kind of just… Well when your dad told me where you were I might have-”

“Did you pull a Derek and vanish on the pack?” Stiles raises a brow. That surprised him, Scott had always been so against Derek’s disappearing acts that he figured the alpha would have said something- maybe that was who he’d been texting while Stiles had been laid out on the preserve floor. 

“Uh- Well… yeah. Kind of.” 

“ _ Dude.  _ Not cool.”

“ _ Hey! _ This was different?”

“How so?”

“It was you…” Stiles flushes and looks up at Scott who looks equally embarrassed. 

“ _ Dude _ .”

“Shut up, man.” Scott shoves his shoulder as Stiles grins at him. 

“Aw don’t be like that, you  _ love  _ me.” 

Scott rolls his eyes and ignores Stiles in favor of climbing the stairs of what was now a finished version of the house they’d only had rough sketches of when Stiles had taken off. The old Hale house had been demolished and they’d planted a tree on the spot. The new pack house was a few feet away, just as large as the Hale house had been, with an outdoor patio and stairs leading up to a blue door. Stiles takes a moment to just stand there and admire had once been just an  _ idea _ they’d had one day. 

A year was a long time. 

He remembers arguing with Derek over putting these silly little garden ornaments in the font- there they were. Stiles grins when he sees what had been the source of a surprisingly heated argument- several of those little dog butts that people could put in their yard  to look like a puppy had dug into the yard. There’s one for each of the pack- the ‘ _ absolutely not stiles they’ll look stupid _ ’ ceramic tails line the front garden where there are different plants he doesn’t recognize. 

Stiles feels the ever-tight knot in his chest loosen a little more. 

“Stiles?” Scott calls from the top of the stairs before following his gaze. He smiles when Stiles looks up. He doesn’t know why he’s surprised they’re there. It’s not that he thought the pack wouldn’t miss him- 

But really, that’s what he’d thought. Especially six months into his isolation when no one had chased him down for answers yet. A dark twisted side of him that had been there  _ long  _ before this darkness that made him so dangerous took over his DNA; had been convinced that they’d moved on. 

“Derek’s the one who put them out.” Scott smiles, leaning on the edge of the patio, looking down at the ornaments. “He got one for you too, y’know.” 

_ Really, now? And just who had told Stiles this had been a dumb idea? _ “Seriously?” He asks, but then- Stiles sees and… and that  _ fucker _ -

Scott snorts as he points to the horrendous little gnome standing guard beside a black dog’s butt. It has got to be the  _ ugliest _ little gnome Stiles has  _ ever seen. _

“What in the hell is that?” He squawks, to which the alpha just laughs from the top of the stairs. 

“What do you mean? Looks just like you, man!”  _ Excuse you. _

“It does not! That thing looks like a fucking  _ troll _ . I pick out cute dog butts for you guys- and you do me dirty with this atrocity? I changed my mind.” Stiles huffs, throwing his arms up. “I’m going back to Canada.” Scott rolls his eyes and turns to the door. 

Stiles takes into notice that there are excited heartbeats outside. He wonders if the pack heard them or if they’re wondering who the hell Scott brought back. He knows that his heartbeat isn’t the same, even Scott had taken a few minutes to accept that Stiles was  _ Stiles _ . 

In a way, he wasn’t. 

“I’m back-” Scott calls as he enters the house. Stiles decides, after his episode with Dad, that it might be best to hang back for now. 

“Where the  _ hell _ did you go? I can’t believe you’d just take off like that! I was worried sick! DO YOU HAVE ANY-” Oh Lydia sounded  _ livid _ . Stiles felt heat rush through him as her voice reached him. He takes a moment to soak in her sharp tone, which makes him think of her pink lip gloss that he’d dreamt about since third grade- about how they formed each berating word as her alpha hugged her and grinned. 

“Who’s outside?” Cuts crisply through Lydia’s lecture. Stiles swallows, feeling out of place. Had he really changed so much that they didn’t recognize him anymore? It bothered him that Isaac’s tone could be so cold. 

Scott looks back down the stairs at Stiles, who was hidden from sight of the doorway. Stiles bites his lip. He’s got his hands clenched tightly when Scott inclines his head to come forward. A growl from behind the alpha has him pausing though, only three steps up. 

“Isaac, knock it off!” Allison’s voice sound the same smokey way as it always has. 

_ Maybe werewolves really  _ do _ have a natural hatred for vampires.  _ Stiles should have known that Scott had been the weird one. That he was just the tiny one percent of wolves that didn’t react violently to vampires. 

“Sti-” Scott starts to say but a blur of red hair is shoving past and Stiles catches it on instinct. Lydia connects with him hard, but he doesn’t trip down the stairs as he should have, the change had at least helped him in that regard. 

“STILES GENIM STILINSKI YOU ASSHOLE!” She cries out and it’s all Stiles can do to not look like a deer in the headlights. Scott is grinning and the rest of the pack is now out of the house, standing on the porch while Stiles is holding a crying Lydia in his arms on the stairs. 

“Hey Lydia…” He murmurs softly, letting her squeeze the stiffness right out of him. It feels wrong that his dad’s similar greeting had made him feel more anxious than an angry Lydia Martin. She smells like sunshine and fruit, some kind of earthy smell overpowers whatever perfume she’s wearing- he wonders if that is a banshee thing. 

Stiles can’t resist pressing a kiss to her hair as she sobs out some type of beratement. He can’t focus on more than just her though, an armful of not-quite-human is distracting enough without listening to Isaac growling from the top of the stairs. 

“Stiles where the hell have you been?” Someone asks, he thinks it might be Allison, he’s not quite sure. One crying girl is enough. Stiles takes one last deep breath of her scent before pulling back. He’s grateful Scott let him hunt earlier, as it seems that while his family home’s scent had been overbearing- he feels fine. Even  _ with _ Lydia hugging him tightly. 

_ I should be more excited she missed me. _ It’s a random thought that he almost doesn’t catch. He should, really. Last year he would have done  _ anything _ to have Lydia hold him like this. Now though, it’s just a comfort- Stiles wonders at what point had he fallen out of love with her. 

“Guess I’m a little late to the housewarming party, huh?” He tries to joke, glancing up over her head to see not one but  _ two _ betas growling and eyes flashing at him. Stiles frowns. Isaac, he might understand- but Stiles thought Derek and he had gotten past this.

“Would you two cut it out. It’s  _ Stiles _ for Christ’s sake.” Allison berates. Lydia pulls back and slaps Stiles. And yeah- okay that might have been a  _ little much _ ?

“Wha- OW.” She gasps instead. Stiles cringes, looking down at her hand. 

“Sorry…” He says but she’s already cradling a hand and taking a step back. Isaac is already between them before Scott can grab him. 

“THE HELL DID YOU DO?” He’s never  _ in his life _ seen Isaac so  _ angry _ . 

“Isaac! Stop, let him explain-”

Stiles let’s Isaac push him, he lets him because he really feels bad about Lydia’s hand. Allison is frowning and Derek is still rooted in the doorway. 

“Hey man.” Stiles greets tightly when Isaac glares at him. The betas nostrils flare as his glowing eyes seem to be checking him over. “I didn’t mean to hurt her- Lydia are you okay? I should have stopped you, I totally forgot.” He calls over Isaac’s shoulder. 

“Don’t talk to her! How do we even know this  _ is _ Stiles?” And uh…  _ what exactly is that supposed to mean?! _

“Isaac! Knock it off!” Scott growls. Lydia and Allison are back in the house, Stiles feels the knot tighten again, pulling taught and choking off his arguments. Isaac gives him a shove when he doesn’t answer. 

“Stiles left. He didn’t come back- we were already tricked  _ once _ .” Stiles really wants to know what that means, what Scott hasn’t told him. Instead he matches Isaac’s glare. 

“It’s me. Isaac, I have literally  _ no idea _ what the hell you’re talking about.” Stiles tries to ignore his instincts- the ones that immediately point out to him that if he grabbed Isaac’s the head with his left hand and ducked low, and used his right hand to steady the man’s hip- he’d be able to rip out his trachea with his fangs. 

“You really think we’ll fall for that  _ again? _ Show yourself, witch.” 

“Isaac-  _ dude _ -” The blonde growls and Stiles tries.  _ He tries so hard _ not to react- but one can only expect  _ so much _ . He’s had a tough day, and his nerves are rubbed raw already from visiting home. Stiles’ eyes flash at the beta. 

“ENOUGH!” Scott roars at them both but he’s trying to hold Derek back now, who doesn’t take so kindly to how Stiles lunges at Isaac when the wolf snaps his teeth at him. 

_ Great _ . 

All he had needed to do was not react- and they could have completely moved on. Instead Stiles and Isaac go tumbling across the yard. The blonde shifts and it’s the first fight Stiles has been in with something that didn’t answer to ‘ _ Bambi’.  _

He narrowly dodges the claws that go for his face, deciding that, as much as he feels bad about punching Isaac in the face, the beta kind of deserves it right about now. Stiles holds back, in fear what his supernatural strength might do to the wolf and punches out. 

The noise it makes when it connects, a sickening  _ crack _ \- It does things to Stiles’ stomach. Bad things. He sits back on his haunches from where he’d been on top of Isaac, hoping that will keep him down. As a result, Stiles is completely blindsided when arms grab him from behind, restraining him from hitting Isaac again when the wolf growls at him again. 

“I said,  **ENOUGH** .” Scott has definitely gotten better at using his alpha voice since Stiles left. In that moment- even though he wasn’t a wolf- he cringes and looks down away from it. Scott’s scent is warm and sweet like always, like a sickeningly sweet candy shop but on fire. After Stiles is pulled to his feet, and pushed behind Scott who’s a little breathless. Stiles notices that Derek is still by the door, looking a bit ruffled while his uncle is beside him.

He wonders when Peter had showed up but he has a feeling it was when Stiles had been baring his fangs at a certain blonde beta. 

“Get up.” Scott growls at Isaac who does so, his face is swollen on one side but it’s already healing. 

Stiles tugs on the bottom of the black henley he’s wearing, clenching his fists around the bottom and trying to remember his meditations.  _ What three things cannot remain unseen?  _ Under his breath he whispers the mantra, checking out for a moment. 

_ The sun, the moon and the truth. The sun the moon and the truth. The sun… _

“I brought Stiles home, he needs a place to stay and as  _ pack _ it’s his right to be here just as much as it’s yours.” Scott lectures. 

“He’s not-”

“I am. Me, that is. I am me. I just… Some stuff has changed y’know?” Stiles cuts in, feeling small when Isaac scrutinizes him. He doesn’t dare face the porch where both Hales are standing. He wonders if Cora is around, the last he’d heard she was planning on staying here with Derek. 

“What happened? What…”  _ What are you? _ Goes unsaid but it’s obviously what everyone wants to know. Stiles lets his eyes fixate in on the bit of blood on Isaac’s lip before swallowing thickly. 

“Why don’t we head inside first? I want to check on Lydia’s hand.” Scott says instead, not giving Isaac a chance to argue. 

Stiles stays where he’s standing, looking down at the silly lawn ornaments.  _ I should have stayed in Canada _ . It’s almost creepy how Scott snaps his gaze to his the second the thought passes. As if the alpha could hear his thoughts. 

“C’mon.” 

“Are you sure? I don’t think it’s-”

“Stiles, shut up and get in the house.” Derek’s voice doesn’t match the pinched look he has, as if he’s wary. His tone is the same gruff confident way it’s always been. Eager for some type of normalcy, Stiles doesn’t argue against the green eyed beta. He keeps his eyes on the floor though, as they all enter the house. He doesn’t miss how Scott keeps himself between the pack and him though. 

He’s not sure who it’s to benefit- to protect Stiles from another incident or-

_ Or to protect the pack from Stiles. _ He doesn’t like either of those ideas, so he focuses on the watery glare Lydia gives him instead. He doesn’t miss how Allison him watching him with a battle-ready-stiffness now. 

“Sorry.” He says softly to her, unable to keep from frowning at her injured hand. Allison is holding ice on it, but he thinks she’ll be fine. 

Lydia purses her lips but doesn’t let Scott take her pain. “Why did you come? After all this time?” She asks. He figures that’s a pretty decent question. Stiles looks to Scott. 

“I asked him to.” Answers the alpha.

She frowns at that, but doesn’t ask more. It’s Derek asks the next question, to which Stiles hunches his shoulders when he’s asked where he was. 

“Canada.” He replies, inspecting the floors. They’d gone with hardwood, but not the oak color they’d originally picked out- it looks like some kind of dark cherry. Stiles glances up at Derek, and it’s a mistake because the man is pinning him with a stare already. 

His insides squirm uncomfortably as he bites his lip. Derek’s eyes seem to be looking for something, before they drop down and his nostrils flare a little. Stiles usually wouldn’t have picked up on such a miniscule change if he hadn’t been able to catch the way Derek’s heartbeat stuttered for a millisecond. Stiles looks down to see what he’s staring at, only to remember the henley. 

“Why didn’t you contact us? We didn’t know what happened, just that the sheriff said you were okay.” Allison asks, rubbing her boyfriends back who had sat down beside her. Stiles could see that his face was mostly healed now, Isaac hadn’t wiped the blood off his lip yet. He could smell it from here, on the other side of the room only teen feet from the front door. 

Stiles looks to the kitchen island he’s standing beside, deciding that its a safer spot to look. “It’s.. I needed to get away. From it all. I couldn’t-” He’s already explained himself to Scott, but trying to repeat it in a room full of people makes it so much harder. 

“Look, the important part is, he’s home now alright?” Scott says, and  _ god bless _ Scott. Because Stiles felt like he was drowning in all the attention now. He’s trying his best not to breath in his nose, because though he can tell there are other overwhelming smells he can’t identify and pick apart each one right now. 

What he  _ can _ smell right now, is the blood on Isaac’s lips.  _ Seriously, why can’t the dude just wipe his fucking mouth? _

Scott places a hand on his shoulder, and Stiles looks up at the alpha, trying his best not to let his eyes fall back to Isaac’s mouth again. He hadn’t noticed the room going quiet. “Why don’t I show you your room?” The alpha asks him, but it’s not that much of a question. Stiles nods stupidly, eyes falling back to Isaac’s mouth again. 

The moment they go upstairs, his head clears like he’d been stuck in a cloud this whole time and finally is free. “Are you sure this is such a good idea, Scott? I can just stay at the motel until I can get a place.”

“Quit it. I already  _ told  _ you. You’re pack. And you’re staying here.” 

“What, so I get no say in this?”

“Exactly.” Scott teases, hip checking Stiles. They both act as if the rest of the house isn’t super quiet because everyone is listening in. 

“They don’t want me here. It’s different now Scott-” 

“Don’t make me use my alpha voice on you.” Stiles is only have certain Scott is joking.  _ Mature, Scott. Real mature. _ “This is your room. Why don’t you get settled in? I’ll have your dad bring some stuff by?” Stiles sighs at the mention of the sheriff. 

_ Dad is so pissed at him _ Stiles figures, because if his _ own  _ kid had acted like that and not told him what was going on, he’d be pissed too. “Maybe just… Hold off? Until tomorrow? I don’t think I can handle anymore today.” He says, taking that moment to look around the room and seeing it’s just how they’d designed it. The rest of the house seems to have been revised and changed since the first blueprints, except this room is how he’d chosen. 

He can’t tell if it’s guilt that pulls the knot in his chest  _ that  _ much tighter or not, just that it hurts to think about this friends doing all this without him. He wonders if they ever came in here to check if he’d ever just show up one day- the way Stiles had checked streets half heartedly while living on the the other side of the continent. 

Scott leaves him, offering a sad smile before going downstairs. Stiles takes in the room, a desk pressed on the wall just to the right of the doorway that’s adorned with a computer and a holder that has several highlighters, pens, markers, and other research supplies. The wall beside the desk has a built-in shelving unit, and it’s  _ full _ with different books and tomes. Some of them are familiar, of his own collection that someone must have dug out of their hiding places. Others must be from Deaton’s. Instead of falling into the queen sized bed in the far left corner, that has simple white bedding on it; Stiles walks over to the large window, the wall indents just before the window, creating a space that houses a reading space, the bench is wide enough for two people and about the same length as his bed- Stiles already knows he’ll be falling asleep here at least once or twice, if he stays, that is. 

As much as Scott wants him- he can’t force the pack to accept him like this. He’s not sure they’ll be as welcoming when they find out he’s a  _ monster _ . 

Werewolves weren’t natural born killers, so he couldn’t agree with how Scott had growled at him for using the term. ‘ _ If you won’t let me say it then neither can you _ ’ he’d scolded. But ‘wolves didn’t live to drink blood- it wasn’t the same. 

Stiles took a deep breath, picking up a familiar scent of pine. He smiles a little at the thought of Derek being in here, despite how much they didn’t seem to get along- Stiles actually didn’t  _ mind _ having the beta around. Especially since he’d given up his powers and stopped trying to be a big bossy tough alpha. 

***

It’s not very surprising when an hour later Scott asks Stiles to follow him down stairs where the pack is gathered. Cora and Liam are on the couch with Allison and Isaac. Peter and Derek chose to linger while Lydia and Jackson are sharing the love seat. Liam’s eyes flash at Stiles when he enters the room but if Cora even cares that Stiles is back, she doesn’t show it. 

“We need to talk.” Scott says, and Stiles nods. He figures they have questions- there’s no way Isaac at the least hadn’t noticed his eyes and fangs. He’s not sure the others who’d seen the fight had noticed it but he does take this moment to eye Lydia’s bandaged hand. She catches his eyes but Stiles dodges the sad smile she offers him. 

“Yeah.” They do need to talk. Stiles takes a deep breath trying to prepare himself while Scott takes the lead.

 

_ Here goes nothing.  _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think is going to happen next?! 
> 
> COMMENT, KUDOS and BOOKMARK!!
> 
> let me know what you think!!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The pack finds out about Stiles' affliction, they react in a way he didn't expect.

He wonders which pack member had picked out the ugly patterned rug on the floor of the living room where they were all gathered. 

“As you guys know, Stiles left last year without warning. There are reasons for it, but I wanted to give him a chance to talk before you guys jump down his throat. Stiles?” Scott’s gotten better at being an alpha- it’s like clear to him as he sees how no one interrupts him. Stiles is curious how much of that is out of curiosity for answers and how much of it is respect for the true alpha. As far as he knew, none of the Hales were even in the pack. 

All eyes are on him, he can feel them without looking away from the  _ honestly dreadful _ rug. Who picks a maroon, blue and yellow rug? It reminds him of a kid’s finger painting or something. He clears his throat to buy time, trying to figure out what to say.

“Um… I guess it’s really not that complicated, I know I should have just… come out and said it but I wasn’t- I’m  _ not _ able to control it so-” Stiles drags the toe of his sneaker against the edge of the rug. “It’s not that I meant to just run away-” He glares at the stupid pattern. 

He can hear someone sigh in annoyance. Stiles focuses on the steady beat of Scott’s heart beside him instead.  _ The sun, the moon, and the truth… _

“The last time I was here, in Beacon Hills I- I got bit.” The room is quiet except for the soft intakes of breath- either in shock or because they were scenting the air- Stiles clenches his fingers into the edge of his shirt. “I didn’t know what to do and I-” His voice shakes and he closes his eyes. The ugly rug’s pattern dances behind his eyes. 

“Stiles, what bit you?” Allison asks from the couch. He runs a hand over his face and hair, wishing he could rub away the anxiety that’s gnawing on his frayed patience. Despite being in his room upstairs, he hadn’t been able to nap like he’d wanted. He’s just let himself succumb to his thoughts and process the past few days. Though it had been needed, he couldn’t help but wish he’d slept a little. 

Stiles looks up from the carpet to face the pack, he wonders when Scott had put a hand on his shoulder, but he’s grateful for the warmth of the touch. It’s more helpful at grounding him that his mantra was. 

“That night I- I turned, and I-” Stiles looks to Scott, afraid of what he’ll say. “It was bad.” It’s not a lie. But Scott doesn’t know about Donovan and he doesn’t think the alpha will take kindly to the news now. Scott’s hand tightens. 

“Stiles…” Allison looks like she’s already putting together the pieces but the others, even with their enhanced senses seem oblivious. If they know, they’re not showing it. Stiles finally meets her eyes, listening to her elevated heartbeat. 

“I didn’t know what to do I- I read in the bestiary that wolves don’t…” He looks at Isaac, where he’d punched the blonde in the face. Isaac narrows his eyes at him. “They don’t get along with us.”

“You thought we’d reject you?” Scott asks from beside him, a sad frown pulling Stiles attention back to the alpha. 

He shrugs. “Yeah. I mean, look at what happened when I got here-” he waves a hand to Isaac who unapologetically shrugs back. 

“Stiles-”

“Will you just get to the point already?” It’s Jackson who says it, and if it weren’t for the pinched frown on his face he’d say the ex-kanima was worried. 

“I got bit by a vampire.” He says to the room. Though no one jumps at the revelation, he can hear several member’s hearts fluctuate at the news. Stiles looks back to Lydia’s hand and meets her eyes. “I’m sorry by the way, for the hand- I should have stopped you but honestly, I didn’t know that would happen. I don’t really know much about all... This…” He lamely waves to himself. 

Lydia purses her lips again, how she always does when she’s deep in thought. He tries not to hone in on Allison’s heartbeat across the room, which is still pumping quick and fast. Stiles must do a poor job of it because Scott’s hand tightens on his shoulder. 

_ Bathump bathump bathump- _

He shakes his head and sighs. 

“So you think that we, of all people, wouldn’t know how to deal with this? Seriously?” Lydia demands, after a pause. She seems to be back to her usual self. Stiles raises a brow at her. 

“Well excuse me, but I wasn’t exactly thinking straight at the time.” He hears Jackson scoff and ignores the way his eyes laugh at him.  _ Dammit Jackson, this was not the time for jokes about sexuality _ . 

“Our pack has dealt with everything from werewolves, to banshees and kitsunes- you think we’d really throw you out for following in the footsteps of  _ Edward Cullen _ ?” She asks and Stiles glares. 

“First of all- that book is full of lies. I don’t sparkle.”

“Well what  _ can _ you do?” Liam asks, tilting his head in a way that reminds Stiles so much of Scott it’s weird. Talk about taking after your mentor. 

Stiles scratches the back of his neck absently, letting his eyes land on Allison again. She’s been chewing on her lip again, he can tell because there’s a few drops of blood on her abused bottom lip. 

“I honestly don’t know, really. I haven’t really been experimenting.” 

“And what, Stiles,  _ have _ you been doing? I can’t imagine there are many blood banks that cater to your…  _ needs _ .” Peter inquiries from where he’s leaning on the counter. Stiles narrows his eyes at the man. At least that was one question he didn’t feel particularly bad answering- especially when he catches the frown Derek’s sending him. 

“Animals mostly, I had an in with a butcher back at my old place.” He answers, unable to help but cringe. Peter looks a little disappointed, as if he were really expecting  _ Stiles  _ of all people to be out and about  _ murdering  _ people. 

Donovan’s sobs echo in his head and he can’t control the way his eyes flash at Peter.  _ That was an accident. _ Stiles wasn’t a killer. He  _ wasn’t _ . The man smirks,flashing blue eyes back at him. Scott slides his hand from Stiles’ shoulder to the back of his neck. 

_ “Stiles.”  _ Right. He was supposed to be behaving. 

“Sorry.” He mutters, glaring at Peter who seems satisfied. 

“Just so we’re clear, if you ever skip town like that again, I will hunt you down myself.” Lydia threatens from the couch. Her comment seems to cut the tension that had settled into the air and suddenly he’s being bombarded with questions and queries. 

_ What was it like being a vampire? Were his senses heightened like a wolf’s? Can he eat real food still? Does he remember what happened to the vampire who bit him? Why were his eyes red? Were there different titles for vampires as there were wolves? How many times a week did he have to feed? What had he been doing with his time in Canada? _

It was a bit overwhelming but he answered to the best of his abilities. Allison seemed to calm down more as the conversation went on, especially after he answered all her questions. Whatever had her worried seemed to fade away. He had to admit though, that he was grateful when the pack took a break from the questions and he took a moment to step outside onto the patio. 

This far from the town you could see the stars clearly. Back in New Brunswick- a small and kind of crappy province with cramped cities- he hadn’t been able to see them all too well. The clear smell of forest surrounded the pack house and gave him the reprieve he’d needed. 

Stiles doesn’t turn when the door clicks shut behind whoever has followed him out onto the porch. It’s only lit by white fairy lights that he’s certain Lydia put up. They make the porch look nice, but he can’t imagine anyone else putting them up. 

“So. Vampires, huh?” Cora hands Stiles a beer bottle as she leans on the railing beside him. He smiles at her as he accepts it. Of everyone that had quizzed him, Cora and Peter had kept to themselves. Derek had only asked him a few about safety issues, but the Hales hadn’t been as taken aback as the others. 

“Yeah. Pretty disappointing compared to all the hype.” He sighs, looking out at the trees again. 

“I dunno, I think Lydia almost breaking her hand from slapping you is pretty badass.” Cora grins, sipping from her brown bottle. Stiles sighs heavily. 

“I feel so shitty about that.” 

“Don’t. Like I said, it was badass.” She assures him. So far, Stiles has been grateful as hell for how the Hales haven’t lost their minds like most everyone else. They definitely are helping him not feel like such a freak. 

“Thanks.” Stiles says, sipping the beer before frowning at the bottle. It tasted different from what he’d been expecting, an almost fruity kind of taste. Despite his efforts- Stiles had already tried to find an alcohol that affected him, but much like Scott in sophmore year, his healing abilities simply didn’t allow it. “What’s in this?”

“Blackthorn berries.” She answers. “They’re kind of like a mellower version of mountain ash berries.” 

Stiles nods before taking another sip of it. It’s not really a bad taste, but he can feel the way it fills him with a warmth that’s been missing since last November. “Thanks.” He says again, earning a familiar raised brow.  _ Someone’s been spending too much time with Derek _ . He thinks. 

“For what?”

“Believe it or not, I really thought you guys were all going to freak out.”

“Trust me, vampires are hardly the weirdest thing I’ve seen.” 

“Yeah?” He smiles. Cora’s  _ take-no-shit-give-no-fucks _ attitude has always been a source of comfort. Especially when it took on that special kind of dry humour Stiles loved. 

Cora nods and drinks from her bottle, contemplating on something for a while. Stiles is halfway through his bottle before she says anything again. 

“My mom. She used to go to these peace summits when I was a kid. We both know that werewolves aren’t the only supernatural beings out there, but you really have  _ no idea _ .” She sighs. “I know Scott means well. He’s a great alpha too. But the pack has always been on a need to know basis when it comes to this community. They weren’t born into it, so they don’t get it.” Stiles hums softly. 

What she says is true, but it’s mostly because they’re also under attack so often that trying to learn new things is a little hard when you barely had a chance to breathe without bad guys lurking about. 

“I mean, I guess I figured. Considering what’s in the Argent’s bestiary alone.” He shrugs. The hunter’s information was always helpful- but it was also like a hunting catalogue of how to kill creatures. 

Cora tucks a lock of brown hair behind her ear. The shorter length looks good on her, and Stiles tells her this as they move to steps where they can sit down to talk. They admire the stars quietly for a long time, and Stiles doesn’t know how to articulate how grateful he is for her nonchalance. It’s the closest he’s felt to normal since he’d opened his door to Scott on his doorstep nearly four days ago. 

“Cora?”

“Yeah?”

Stiles studies his mostly empty bottle, though Cora said it was beer he’d never (even when human) been a lightweight and it’s strange to be feeling tipsy after just one drink. He doesn’t mind it though, it makes the words come out easier, a warm hug soothing that always-tight knot in his chest. “Do you think it was a good idea? Coming back?”

“Yeah. I think so. Do you?” 

_ Not really _ . “I guess.” 

“You do know I can tell when you lie, right?” Cora sighs, and he nods with a sheepish smile. 

“Worth a shot?” He offers, and she rolls her eyes at him. 

“You’re as bad as Derek. It’s pulling teeth to get him to speak his mind half the time. And you talk twice as much as he does.” She doesn’t point out that Stiles has actually been fairly tame since arriving. He’s sure most of the pack has noticed that. It’s not like it happened on purpose, it was just that he’d gotten used to there being no one to talk to. 

It’s going to take a while to adjust, but at the same time- on sitting on the stairs and admiring the constellations, Stiles feels like he never left. 

“I speak my mind.” He says. 

“I meant, you don’t talk about what  _ you _ want. You talk a lot but you don’t actually  _ say _ much.” Stiles looks up at Cora, confronting those deep brown eyes head-on. She’s much more perceptive that Stiles realized. It’s easy in this moment, to recognize the relation she has to Peter. He wonders if they had ever been close- he knows they definitely aren’t now. 

“I could say the same for you.” He counters, setting his bottle on the step behind him before leaning back, elbows supporting him as he cranes his neck back at the sky. 

Cora’s eyes aren’t very discreet when they eye his bared neck. Stiles smirks at her, earning a shove as she looks up at the sky with him. They settle back into the silence for a while longer, her knee is pressed into his shoulder, where she’s sat higher up on the stairs leading up to the wooden patio. 

“Do you, though? Think it was a good idea to come back?” She asks him after a long moment. 

He turns the question over in his head. Was it? Good question. 

“I missed everyone.” He says softly, like the night sky is able to keep these secrets safe. “But I had a life there. A routine. I’ve been here one day and I’ve done more running than I have in a year. I’ve already hurt two people. Makes it hard to want to stay.” He admits. 

Cora hums, and doesn’t ask for an elaboration. She doesn’t say anything at all, just presses her leg harder against his shoulder. They should be feeling the bite of the September air, but neither of them move to go inside. Stiles doesn’t really mind the cold anymore, it’s not that he doesn’t notice it, it’s just that his body runs a lower temperature. It doesn’t crave to preserve heat with shivering and goosebumps anymore ( _ at least not unless it’s really cold _ ). 

Compared to Canada, California was much too warm for him to even mind the cold breeze at all. 

“Scott said that you went to see your dad.” She says when Stiles has almost dozed off. He hums softly, closing his eyes when the stars start giving him a headache from the many pictures he’s able to pick out of them. “He also said you had a panic attack from being in the house.” Stiles sighs. 

“Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?”

“Not really.” 

“Okay.” 

Stiles smiles. “Okay.” 

He’s not sure when they finally choose to go back inside but Stiles is relieved to see there isn’t still a gathering of curious eyes as there had been when he’d stepped out. Scott is sat at the breakfast bar, nursing a bottle of water and tapping away on a laptop. 

“Hey man.” He smiles at Stiles who inclines his head in return. 

“Hey.”

“I’m gonna hit the hay. Goodnight guys.” Cora says as she passes them, handing off her empty beer bottle to Stiles and doesn’t pause to listen for their answer. 

“Night.” Scott and Stiles chime at the same time. 

“So…” Scott says as soon as Cora’s reached the third floor where the Hale’s bedrooms were. Stiles found it endearing that Scott had given them a section of the house for them to have as their own. He’s sure Derek, Peter and Cora did too. Stiles waits for the question to come as he places both bottles in the recycling. “You and Cora?”

“We just talked.”

Scott nods. Stiles wouldn’t have been surprised if the rest of the pack had been listening in from the living room, it’s not as if it would have been too hard. They almost all had superior hearing anyways. 

“I told you everything would be fine.” Scott says after Stiles leans on the bar with an apple in hand. 

Stiles shrugs and bites the fruit. His fangs are a little achy from the stress the day had brought. He’d need to figure out a hunting schedule, in order to avoid people or overhunting the same area. “I mean, I did almost break Lydia’s hand.”

“To be fair, she slapped you.” Stiles rolls his eyes, but Scott just sighs and closes the laptop. “Stiles, it’s not your fault. Isaac was out of line and Lydia- well she’ll get over it.” 

“Scott-”

“Don’t ‘ _ Scott _ ’ me. Vampire or not, you’re still my brother- you’re still  _ pack _ . They’ll get over it. Isaac only reacted to her pain, he’s still a bit jumpy about his newer bonds. It’s a work in progress.” Stiles makes a defeated sound before taking a big bite out of the apple with contempt. 

“So what now?”

“Now, we’ll help with your training I guess. You said yourself you don’t know much about it, and that coven I told you about is dangerous. They’ve killed about six people so far. And those are only the ones we’ve found.”

“So I’m going to be your guinea pig?” Stiles raises a brow. He’s both annoyed and impressed, the idea isn’t half bad. 

Scott cringes a little. “Don’t say it like that…” He whines and Stiles grins at the sound. No matter how much of a  _ True Alpha _ Scott was, he was also Stiles’ brother. A whiny brother who always had his back. 

“It’s alright man. It’s not a bad idea. I think it would be a good idea to learn some  _ actual _ control. All I have going for me is those mantras. I don’t know much about vampires, just that there’s not much on them publicly available. Most of that crap online is written by science-fiction nerds and twilight fans.”

Scott chuckles. “So… no sparkling?

“No sparkling.” 

“Mirrors?”

“Still work.”

“Garlic?” 

“Seriously, Scott? No.” 

Scott looks a little disappointed by that one. “What about wolfsbane?” 

Stiles pauses to think. “I don’t know, honestly.”

The alpha sighs and rubs his face. “Alright. Well we’ll start figuring this stuff out tomorrow. I’m exhausted. Did you need anything before I go to bed?” 

“Nah, I think I’m good. So long as I don’t try eating anyone in my sleep again.” He sighs. Stiles still feels a bit of guilt over that- and it reminds him of his dad’s face when he’d taken off earlier. Suddenly he’s not interested in the half eaten apple in his hand. 

Scott frowns and watches Stiles for a minute. “We can line your door in mountain ash tomorrow? That’s the best I can do, but I’m not a big fan of locking you in there like some…” 

Stiles is already nodding though. Because even if Scott doesn’t think it- Stiles really does think it’s for the best. Because he  _ is _ ‘like some  _ monster _ ’. Scott wouldn’t say it but they both knew what word he was unable to say. 

“Think of it as those chains you used to need on the full moon.” Stiles shrugs, throwing away the half eaten fruit and watching how Scott fidgets with his water bottle. 

“You’re sure?”

“I really don’t want to hurt anyone, Scott.” Stiles says softly. Scott looks like he’s going to protest again but Stiles just gives him  _ the look _ . He’s serious about this, and Scott has to understand it’s as much for their safety as it is for Stiles’. If he hurt one of the pack he’d never forgive himself. 

“Alright..” The alpha concedes, but not without a disapproving frown. Stiles nods in thanks before clapping Scott on the shoulder. 

“Night, Scott. And… thanks. For everything.”

“You really need to quit it with the thank yous. We’re family- this is what we do.” 

Stiles nods with a small smile, feeling his cheeks warm up. He’s still astonished that Lydia let them keep that rug in the living room. It’s almost as ugly as the gnome out front. 

“Night Stiles.” 

He watches Scott head up to bed, and focuses on the steady heartbeats of all nine pack members. They don’t all beat in tandem- but the constant thrum is a soft melody that’s soothing to the ear. Stiles makes sure to the lock up and turn out the lights as he heads upstairs. 

He doesn’t sleep until it’s nearly three in the morning, still wearing the dark henley Scott had leant him from earlier. It still smells like Derek- of pine and whiskey and that little bit of  _ something else _ that equates to the older man. Stiles won’t admit to anyone how soothing the scent is. It makes him think of his dad’s whiskey and the trees just outside that always seemed to calm his anxieties. 

It had nothing to do with the fact that the shirt belonged to  _ Derek _ . 

_ It didn’t _ .


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles runs with wolves

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! I'm so grateful for each and every one of your comments and feedback! I'm so glad so many people love this story as much as I do! 
> 
> As always, don't forget to comment, leave kudos and bookmark this story if you like it! It is still a work in progress and I'm grateful to everyone who is patient with me and my mess of an uploading schedule! 
> 
> Enjoy!

“You’re too good for this world.” Stiles groans when Allison places a cup of hot coffee in his hands. It’s barely seven am and Stiles is already up. The nightmares didn't come last night but he’d been restless. It’s been a long time since he’s slept with heartbeats that close. Even driving with Scott had filtered out the sound for louder things like passing cars and the Jeep’s engine. 

Out here in the preserve, there was nothing but those heartbeats to listen to once the pack were all asleep. 

She smiles at him, sitting to join him where he was sitting on the patio. There was an outdoor dining table with cushioned chairs that made it the perfect spot to enjoy the sunrise. He wonders how long she’s been awake. 

“How are you holding up?” She asks before blowing on her own steaming mug. They’ve never really been close, but Stiles knows this is an attempt at extending an olive branch. He wonders if it’s out of guilt for breaking Scott’s heart while he was gone or not. He shrugs and cradles the hot cup close. 

“I’m alright. Better than I was.” 

She doesn’t ask why he didn’t come to the pack or even the Argent family after he’d been bitten. Stiles thinks Scott must have said something after all the questions last night while he’d been outside with Cora. “I wish there was something we could have done.” She says instead. Stiles nods at that. He wishes that too, sometimes. 

He wishes he’d at least  _ known _ about vampires before having to become one and figure it out along the way. It reminds him about what Cora had been talking to him about last night, of the pack only surviving on a  _ need-to-know _ basis. 

Stiles was starting to think they might be a little naive to continue on like that. Only knowing about threats when they were already happening wasn’t a particularly great tactic on their part. 

“Scott wants to do some training. It’ll help you guys learn how to handle… people like me, and I might be able to get better at control.” He doesn’t use the word vampire, Stiles is still struggling to identify with the term. He wonders if this was how Scott felt back in sophmore year. 

“Control?” Allison asks, eyes sharp and alert even at this early hour. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t  _ eat you _ .” He mutters, eyes flicking to the pulse point on her neck that jumped a second ago. Allison looks down at her mug apologetically. “It’s just hard. It’s like… Imagine if you were stranded and dying of dehydration but there’s water  _ right there _ . But you can’t drink it. You can hear it, and smell it all around you but  _ you can’t have it _ .” He explains, gripping his mug a little tighter. 

“Sounds like torture.”  _ It feels like it too _ . 

“I’m sure there’s a better way to explain it. It’s not all that bad really, just… The animal blood isn’t the same. And I tried the whole bagged blood thing? Yeah not the same at all.” Stiles can’t suppress the shudder he gets when he remembers how sick he’d been after trying to survive off bagged blood. 

He’d thought he was dying. 

“Really?” She’s intrigued now, and Stiles nods. 

“It was like food poisoning- times five.” She makes a disgusted expression and he nods grimly.  _ Ew. _

“What are you two doing up?” Lydia asks curiously from the doorway, cradling her own cup of what smelled like apple flavored tea. 

“Not much. Stiles was just telling me about his time in Canada.” Allison says, and Lydia comes over to join him. “Apparently bagged blood is a big  _ no no _ .” She wrinkled her nose as casts Stiles a pitying look. 

They spend the morning chatting about small things. Stiles doesn’t have to talk much because the girls seem to get distracted on tangents quite often, almost forgetting he’s there. It’s comforting to just sit and listen to their voices. He doesn’t miss how Lydia cringes when she picks up her mug with her injured hand. 

“So-”

“Nope. I don’t want to hear another apology out of that mouth of yours.” She quips, raising her brows for him to argue. Stiles thinks about challenging her for it but decides it’s not worth it. Instead he sips his coffee ruefully. 

“Does it hurt?” He asks after a moment. She shakes her head. 

“It’s just bruised weirdly so it’s best just keeping it wrapped.” She shrugs, and Stiles listens for a lie but her heartbeat doesn’t give anything away. “Quit looking like a kicked puppy already.” She teases while Allison grins at them. 

“I’m sure if you really hurt her, Cora wouldn’t have gone outside to talk last night.” She grins over her mug at Lydia.  _ What does that mean? _

“Oh?” Stiles asks, raising his brows as  _ The _ Lydia Martin,  _ Queen of Gossip _ seems to shy away from the topic. Stiles’ eyes find Allison’s who wiggles her brows playfully. “ _ Oh. _ ”

Huh. He hadn’t seen that coming at all. 

“What? What ‘ _ oh’  _ are you talking about?!” Lydia hisses, glaring at Stiles who raises his hands in surrender. He can hear her heart beating faster, and if that wasn’t enough of a give away, he’s pretty sure not even Lydia put on blush this early. 

“ _ Nothing _ .” Allison sing-songs and winks at Stiles when the strawberry blonde narrows her eyes at her phone instead. 

‘ _ What?’  _ Stiles asks with his brows. Allison bites her lip and writes out a text, handing her phone to him when she realizes he doesn’t have his phone on him. 

‘ _ Cora and Lydia have been dancing around each other for nearly 2 months. I think Lydia is actually completely oblivious to the whole thing. Cora is actually really good at hiding it. I only figured it out last month. They’re stupidly in love with each other and don’t even know it. _ ’ Stiles looks back up to Allison, her shit eating grin and then to Lydia’s scowl. 

Well, it wouldn’t be the first time Lydia had been unaware of a love interest- though he has a feeling Cora also wasn’t idolizing and putting Lydia on a pedestal. From the blush on Lydia’s face, he’s pretty sure she’s not as oblivious as Allison thinks. 

Stiles hands the phone back to her, smiling a little. It felt like he was being let into something that he hadn’t been even in line for before. Sure, he’d become close with Lydia after he’d stopped ogling her like a psycho everytime she was within five feet of him-

But this was like…  _ Girl talk. _

Wait- why was he being let in on their secrets? He wasn’t even on  _ #TeamHuman _ anymore. Stiles is actually about to voice this question when the door opens to Scott, Derek, Isaac and Liam dressed in gym clothes. 

“Dude, go get dressed. We’re gonna start soon.” Scott frowns at their small circle of coffee cups and pajamas. Stiles squints at the alpha. 

“What? What about breakfast?” He complains. 

“You can eat after.” 

“But-”

“Stiles, go.” He lets out a whine before standing and finishing his coffee. He doesn’t pass up the chance to stick his tongue out at Scott when the alpha turns his back though. Stiles turns away before he can see who it is that snorts a little laugh. He’s only halfway up the stairs when he realizes his clothes are still in the Jeep, which they’d abandoned when he’d taken off yesterday. 

He pauses and sighs, recalling how his dad had hollered after him. He really should give the man a call, at the least. Stiles enters his room to find someone’s left him some clothing to borrow. He doesn’t know whose it is, but it smells like fresh cut grass and oranges, and something muskier like campfire smoke. Stiles doesn’t bother trying to investigate it, it’s not like he’s had time to go around and scent all of the pack anyways. The only people he can recognize are Scott, Lydia, Derek and Dad at the moment. 

“Stiles! Hurry up!” He can hear Scott call from outside the house. 

“Jesus, I’m coming. Don’t be a tool before eight thirty in the morning, Scott!” He replies, knowing the alphas scoff a floor down and outside is probably accompanied by several rolling eyes. 

When he comes down, no one seems to comment on the borrowed clothes. An old Beacon Hills t-shirt and some  _ Adidas  _ gym shorts that fit him fairly well. It’s really a toss up of whose they are but he doesn’t complain more than he already has. “Thanks, by the way- to whoever let me borrow these. I forgot to bring my stuff.” 

Scott looks like he wants to say something, but just bites his lip as if that will hide his grin. 

“First thing is a run through the preserve. Stiles, you’ll run with Derek. I think he’s probably the fastest one of us.” Stiles doesn’t miss the intrigued look Derek sends him. Not for the first time, Stiles wonders how the hell the man can be so expressive  _ with just his eyebrows. _

“Liam you’ll run with Isaac and I’ll pick up the rear. Meet back here in an hour.” Stiles sighed and rubbed his face. It’s a good thing he’s had coffee already- though he’s still a bit groggy. 

“Not sure you’ll be able to keep up, like that.” 

Stiles raises his brow at the challenge Derek’s just sent. Even with being out of shape, he remembers how easily he’d outrun Scott yesterday- even if it resulted in being tackled seconds later. “Please, Big Guy, I’ll be fine.” 

Derek raises his brows and doesn’t take another second before he’s taking off into the woods-  _ that fucking cheater! _

“It’s not a race!” Scott calls after them like a worried mother, but Stiles is already gone from the yard. Derek is much faster than Scott, and he wonders if that’s because he’s been running these woods longer or if there’s some kind of advantage born wolves have over bitten ones. 

“You’re pretty quick, huh?” Stiles grins when he catches up, matching Derek ‘s pace easy enough once he figures out how to avoid the roots on the ground. The wolf glances over with a flash of blue eyes. 

“There you are, thought I’d lost you back there.”

“You mean when you cheated?”

“It’s not a race, Stiles.” 

“That’s exactly what the loser of a race would say, Derek.” It’s exhilarating letting go like this- and not having to be mid-panic and on the hinges of control while doing it. He wonders just  _ how _ fast he can go before it’s too much. 

Derek seems to have a similar idea as he suddenly breaks off their straight shot trail. Without a thought Stiles is following him, Scott  _ had _ said to stick with him, after all ( _ he’s going to pretend as if he wouldn’t have followed even if told not to. What? It’s not like Derek is in such a playful mood everyday! _ ) 

“You son of a-” Stiles swears when the wolf leads them through the most winded and steep trail in all of the preserve. 

“What’s that? I can’t hear you from all the way back here-” Derek taunts, and it’s only now for some reason that Stiles recognizes the fact that Derek Hale is a middle child. Through and through, the man has a terrible case of middle child syndrome; if this display of competitiveness is anything to go by- he wonders why he never noticed it before. Stiles rolls his eyes while fighting a grin. 

“I was calling you a cheap shot.” He tells the beta when he’s caught up again, adjusting to the trail and even pulling ahead a little. 

Stiles feels like he could go faster- but he doesn’t really know where they’re going. They maintain the pace fairly well for a while, Stiles doesn’t even hesitate to copy when Derek jumps over a dip in their path that drops down to a rocky stream below it. 

He feels like he’s reliving that one song from  _ Annie Get Your Gun _ where she’s going on about anything this guy can do, she can do better. Stiles can’t help but hum it a little as they start to reach the edge of the preserve. 

“How are you hanging in there?” Derek asks, and Stiles is a little distracted being this close to that pine and whiskey smell. It’s  _ so _ much stronger that on that henley he’d been wearing yesterday. 

“Could ask you the same?” He says, a little out of breath but otherwise okay. Derek slows to a stop and looks to Stiles. 

“That was almost thirty miles.” Derek says, and he sounds fairly impressed. 

“Is that good?” Stiles hasn’t ever really thought about how far the wolves can run before they lose steam, he’s never had to know that. Derek laughs a little. It’s a soft scoffing sound but Stiles preens a little that he’s gotten  _ Derek Hale _ to laugh. Even if it’s a little bit. Being around the pack must really be helping all that  _ self-loathing _ crap. 

“Yeah. I think covering almost a mile a minute is  _ pretty good _ .”

“Wait-  _ Really? _ ” Huh. It hadn’t felt like half an hour. Derek raises a brow before looking back the way they came, Stiles does too and his sensitive ears try to pick up on what Derek seems to, but it’s hard to pick out anything specific when the birds won’t shut the hell up. The fluttering heart beats of various animals in the preserve are so distracting that he doesn’t pick up on the running footsteps and heavy breaths just before Scott’s breaking into his eyeline a few minutes later. 

“Jesus- I guess I was right pairing you two up.” Scott pants, he’s sweaty but otherwise he seems fine. 

“Can’t keep up, huh?” 

“Shut up, man.” Scott complains. They wait for Scott to catch his breath before the three of them run back to the house together. Now that Stiles knew their direction- he takes off like a shot, hollering a challenge behind him. 

“Catch me if you can, fido!” He grins, not waiting to hear any answering sounds before letting them give chase.  _ This whole training thing isn’t so bad. _ Stiles decides, making it to the porch stairs seconds before he hears the tell tale sound of Derek behind him. 

“Holy hell!” Allison shouts in surprise, who had been sitting on said stairs, with her now probably cold coffee. She spills it over her pj bottoms when Stiles appears beside her. 

Stiles snorts at her shock, apologizing through a wheeze. Derek is panting in front of him and he has no clue where Scott was at the moment. His adrenaline is pumping and he can hear Derek’s blood rushing loud and clear from the workout. Stiles can’t help the way his eyes fall onto the wolf’s neckline, where his pulse pounds. 

His laugh stops and Stiles barely realizes his face has gone blank until his eyes are burning in that telltale way they do when he flashes them. Derek’s head snaps up at him but all Stiles can hear is the loud throb in his chest. 

_ Bathump bathump bathump- _

“Stiles?” He tilts his head to the voice, but doesn’t let his eyes drift away from where he can see Derek’s artery throb under his skin. 

_ The sun the moon… it would be so easy to just  _ grab _ his neck and bite in… _

He blinks suddenly and is brought of of the daze when his gums throb before sharp fangs are breaking through and dropping down. “Fuck-” Stiles has to go- he needs to be away from that damn smell-

_ Pine and whiskey and iron would taste probably just as good as it smells.  _ His mind supplies. Stiles is already off the porch and covering his nose and mouth, trying to focus on the three things that cannot remain unseen;

_ The sun, the moon and the truth.  _ “ _ Sun, the moon and the truth-” _

An overwhelming sweetness taints the air around him and it’s like Stiles can finally breathe again.  _ Scott.  _ The sickeningly sweet smell masks everything else around him, Stiles looks up to see the alpha’s eyes are red, lips moving while he keeps a distance. 

“Don’t-” Stiles gags out, cringing on how sickeningly sweet the scent was right now. It was almost strong enough to give him a headache. He holds out a hand to stop Scott from coming closer. “The sun, the moon, and the truth.” He repeats again, over and over until he’s not thinking about Derek’s carotid artery. Until his head isn’t filling with the easiest route to the beta that was still stood by the patio, behind him stood several onlookers.

_ Oh god- he was gonna puke- _

“You’re fine, Stiles. Just breathe.” He’d really need to tell Scott that telling someone to breathe wasn’t actually helpful. He’s instead taken by surprise when, just as Scott’s eyes widen and opens his mouth to say something; arms are suddenly holding him from behind. 

“Calm down.” It’s an order that rushes down his spine like ice water, pricking into his back like a needle ( _ actually it was exactly like getting a needle _ ). Scott’s sweet smell filters out to an earthy one- whose owner easily restrains Stiles’ panicked resistance. “Stiles. Focus on my heart beat.” The too-strong arms are the give away that it must be one of the wolves holding him back, and it makes him feel a bit better, because Stiles is about  _ sixty percent sure he broke their rib _ while resisting. 

He does as he’s told, counting the beats of the heart behind him, screwing his eyes shut. It’s slower than the others in the yard. It reminds him of how his own runs a bit slower than it used to. The arms don’t loosen until Stiles feels his fangs retract and falls boneless against the wall of heat behind him. 

“You shouldn’t have done that, I could have hurt you.” Stiles says tiredly, trying to catch his breath as the world filters back in around him. The pack is watching him from the stairs and Scott seems to be stressed as hell in front of him. He doesn’t blame the alpha for looking about three seconds from having a fit. 

“As if you could lay me out, kid.” Now that Stiles wasn’t in the midst of thinking what Derek’s blood tastes like- he realizes that it’s- 

_ Peter? _ That’s holding him back. Stiles wants to pull away but honestly? He feels like all the strength has washed out of him. It’s only when Peter helps Stiles sit on the grass that he takes into account the world looks a little weird around him. It’s out of focus as Scott comes into view. 

“It’s just a mild sedative, kind of like a tranquilizer. He’ll be fine.” Peter’s voice says and wow, Scott has really pretty eyes. Or no, those aren’t Scott’s eyes, Scott doesn’t have green eyes… 

“How did you even know what to give him?” someone asks, their voice is fuzzy. He can smell Pine and lemon detergent, it’s really confusing actually, because Stiles is pretty sure the sky isn’t  _ actually _ spinning. 

“I didn’t, but I think you forget I helped raise a few werewolves. It should clear out in an hour at most.” 

“You dick…” Stiles slurs, squinting at the sun. “Totally roofied me…” He complains but it falls on deaf ears because he can’t keep his eyes open without the world spinning. “I don’t like this ride..” The spinning most definitely is going to make him sick if Peter doesn’t let him off the carousel soon. 

He’s not sure why it’s funny but someone is laughing and he wishes he had the energy to hit them right now. Later, when he doesn’t feel like throwing up everywhere, he makes plans to punch Peter in the face. Right now though, he let’s someone lead him away from the noise of heartbeats and voices to what is probably the softest bed he’s ever been on. The last thing he remembers is a growling voice and some something about someone being stupid. 

Stiles thinks that last part might have been directed at him. He’s not sure though, because he’s already knocked out by then. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thoughts? Did you like it? What do you think is going to happen next?
> 
> COMMENT  
> LEAVE KUDOS  
> BOOKMARK
> 
> Thank you guys so so so much for reading! Feel free to visit me over on tumblr too! misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com!


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles wakes up and has an unexpected heart to heart with another pack member

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you so much for reading this, and I just wanted to let you guys know I have a day job now, so updates will most likely be on Sundays for now. I still post drabbles when I have time but for this fic it will be every Sunday or every other Sunday :)
> 
> Enjoy!!

The first thing Stiles realizes when he wakes up is that his head is  _ killing _ him. The last time he’d had a migraine this bad, he’d been suffering the side effects of bagged blood. He moans in agony when he tries to open his eyes to a world that’s way too bright for his tastes and moves to hide his eyes in the pillow under his head. 

“How do you feel?” Even at a whisper, Cora’s voice is  _ way _ too loud. 

“Like I have a hangover from hell.” He grumbles, trying to remember how he’d even gotten in a bed. 

“Close. Try recovering from wolfsbane mixed with horse tranquilizers.” 

“I’m gonna kill Peter.” Stiles mutters, vowing to exact his revenge. 

“I wouldn’t bother, pretty sure Scott is  _ still _ lecturing him.” 

“ _ Good _ .” In retrospect, he’s grateful at least  _ someone  _ had been prepared to stop him if things had escalated. But he hadn’t been out of control, it wasn’t like Stiles had jumped Derek or something. He thinks the panic was more from overreacting to even  _ wanting _ the blood than anything else. 

Cora sighs, prompting Stiles to turn a little to face her. She’s sitting on the edge of his bed, with her hair up in a messy bun and what looks to be some dress thing with shorts sewn in the bottoms. 

“It’s a romper, you nerd.”

“Did I say that out loud?” She laughs at him and Stiles aims a narrowed glare at the sound. 

“He got you good, didn’t he?” Cora, reaches over to the side and a water bottle enters his vision. He accepts it readily, groaning as the cold water rushes down his throat. “You can rest a little while longer if you want, it’s only been an hour since the whole thing happened.” He sighs. 

“I can’t believe I got roofied by Peter Hale because I checked out his nephew.” Cora snorts again, and he presses into the warm fingers that brush through his hair. 

“If it’s any consolation, Derek wasn’t upset. I think he was actually more pissed with Peter than anything. It’s not like you tried to hurt anyone, Scott was more worried you were going to run. He said that you did that last time.” Stiles nods a little, groaning as he closes his eyes. 

“That guy can’t even let me keep an ounce of dignity, huh?”

“Didn’t know you still had any.” She teases, standing from the bed to close the curtains.  _ What a fucking blessing and godsend, was Cora Hale? _ She huffs out another laugh and Stiles has the feeling he said that part out loud too. 

_ Shit. _

“Sleep it off Stiles, we’ll continue practice tomorrow.” The way she says  _ we _ spikes his curiosity. Would she join them tomorrow? He’d noticed Jackson had also been missing from their training as well. It’s too much to think about right now, so Stiles lets it fade from his memory as quickly as it came. 

He’s too loopy to think straight, so Stiles let’s his mind wander until he falls back to sleep- it doesn’t take very long. 

***

When he blinks his eyes open, Stiles’ first thought is:  _ that son of a bitch _ . 

Whatever it was Peter given him in the yard has worn off now; but the throbbing migraine feels like someone has slammed Stiles’ head into the ground about seventy two times. “Christ…” He swears, sitting slowly and carefully. 

_ That asshole _ … 

He wants to be upset- Stiles really wants to feel upset that Peter had  _ roofied _ him when his control had slipped a bit. But… 

_ At least someone around here sees me as the monster I am _ . 

Stiles rubs his face again as he rests on the edge of his bed. At least Peter could see what Stiles did in the mirror. It was comforting to know that not  _ everyone _ was being naive about this- 

Scott trusted him too much, had convinced himself that  _ because  _ Stiles didn’t want to hurt anyone, that he  _ wouldn’t _ . Vampires and wolves aren’t the same in that respect- Stiles had never  _ wanted  _ to hurt anyone, certainly not that kid when he’d first turned. That didn’t stop him from doing it though. 

“Sounds like he’s up.” Someone says through the floorboards

He doesn’t bother mentioning that he can hear them. Stiles finally gets up, taking a moment to inhale the air of his bedroom. It hasn’t changed from the dusty-faintly-tinged-with-the-odd-visitor scents. He doesn’t have enough experience in analyzing the smells to know what each one is or who left it behind, but it doesn’t overwhelm him either. It’s reassuring to find that there’s only a few there, maybe two people at most have been in here from what he can tell. There’s a small moment of relief in that which Stiles doesn’t take the time to look into. 

“Hey man, sorry about earlier. I didn’t know Peter would do that.” Scott says as Stiles enters the living room. 

It’s a bit hard to balance still so he steadies himself on the back of the couch. The only thing Stiles really has to compare this feeling to is back in highschool when he and Scott had tried to get the werewolf drunk, and Stiles drank half a bottle of his dad’s whiskey. 

“It’s fine.” Stiles says, voice thick as he accepts the bottle of water from the alpha. 

“Peter has something he’d like to say.  _ Don’t you, Peter _ ?” Scott says instead, to which the older wolf rolls his eyes from the breakfast bar. 

“Did I?” 

Stiles raises a brow at Peter’s playful taunt. Scott doesn’t seem to find it funny, but he’s behind Stiles who doesn’t care much to turn around. Whatever the alpha does behind him seems to prompt Peter to go on. “ _ Sorry, Stiles. _ For drugging you so you wouldn’t take a bite out of Derek.” He sighs, smirking. 

_ Peter Hale _ just apologized to him. He looks back to Scoot with a bit of surprise. Either Scott was lying about Peter being in the pack or the older man was actually… trying to play nice? Apparently a year really did change a lot more than Stiles thought. 

_ Still…  _

_ What a dickhead _ . 

Stiles thinks, but just nods. It’s not everyday Peter Hale, ex-Left Hand to one of the most powerful alphas the supernatural community has seen; known murderer and former lunatic of Beacon Hills ( _ not sure how former he was or if he’s just gotten better at hiding it _ ) apologizes. “Don’t worry about it.” As annoyed as he was, it was still a comfort to know  _ someone _ around here was prepared for the worst case scenario.

Scott frowns at his nonchalance. He wonders if the alpha had been expecting a bigger fight from this. Peter certainly had, if the small flash of disappointment that crosses his face is anything to judge by. 

“I actually wanted to know what you dosed me with.” Stiles says. 

“Family recipe.” Peter smiles. 

“Wolfsbane?”

Peter nods and Stiles hums thoughtfully while rubbing his face. “I’ve got to admit, I had been expecting to sort of be immune to that. I guess? I mean, I’m not a wolf. I guess it’s good to know, though.” He has the vague feeling that Peter had also been curious if the herb would take him down. 

“There wasn’t a lot in it, so it’s still unclear if it’ll have the full effect on you; or if it was because of the tranquilizers mixed with it- that it does with us, but it’s a start.” 

Stiles nods along to what Scott’s saying. He wonders how many doses of the concoction Peter has, and where they’re stored. It would definitely help Stiles sleep at night if he knew the pack had something like that to fend him off if-

Peter’s eyes are boring into Stiles and it makes his skin crawl as if a colony of ants have taken up residence just beneath the surface. He looks away from the empty syringe on the breakfast bar and bites his lip.

Scott is quick to change the topic, offering Stiles some lunch. Apparently the rest of the pack had  _ errands _ to run. He finds it hard to believe that seven people all had things to do all at the same time before noon on a sunday- 

But he’s grateful for the quiet household. 

“We should go back to training, I feel fine now.” Stiles offers while Scott hands him a sandwich. Peter has been quiet for a while,though Stiles hadn’t really expected the man to say anything. Peter had a penchant for being the creepy observer in most social situations. 

Stiles hadn’t noticed before how much the man’s eyes trailed after him. Every time he’s been around the elder wolf since his return, Stiles hasn’t needed to notice him due to other people attracting his attention. 

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, man. I want to know what I can do. Plus- you said it right?” He points to himself. “I’m kind of your only point of reference on how to deal with the coven.” 

“Okay, well I think we should wait for the others to come back. If it’s not too late by then I guess it wouldn’t hurt.” Scott agrees, while Stiles finishes his lunch. It’s not as filling as the deer from yesterday, but you can never go wrong with ham & cheese on wheat. 

He leaves them in the kitchen, eager to get away from Peter’s analytic gaze. Instead, Stiles finds himself going outside, off the patio and down the steps. He makes sure the gnome gets the dirtiest look he can muster. 

_ I can’t believe I picked out such a cute dog butt and this is how Derek repays me.  _ Stiles makes a note to self to find a much uglier gnome so he can put ridiculous eyebrows and that ever  present stubble on it. He wonders where Derek even  _ found _ that little atrocity. 

It doesn’t stop from putting a small smile on his lips though, every time he sees it. 

Stiles takes a moment to admire the house. For the most part it resembles the Hale house before it was a pile of rubble, but there  _ are _ some newer additions and remodelling. He wanders off the front porch, passing the table and chairs he'd been sat at just this morning before the whole incident had occurred. Stiles lets his feet guide him down the wooden steps and only casts one glare at the  _ god awful _ ugly gnome Derek has out. 

_ Note to self, find a much better, replacement gnome. _

Stiles notices the flowers growing there are actually quite beautiful. He almost feels a bit bad he hadn't noticed them before. He doesn't know their names but he can recognize the tiger lillies that stand tall on either side of the stairs to offer a little symmetry to the otherwise  unorganized collection of flowers. 

The changes aren't very noticeable at first. They had already been talking to contractors when Stiles had left. Still, he notices that the deck, now that he's not on it or being attacked by Isaac- actually wraps around the left side of the house behind where the table sits. He's not quite sure but he thinks he might see the metallic glint of a barbecue hood behind it. It's too hidden by the table from this angle to tell. 

He decides to just follow the stone laden path from the steps. It occurs to him that he hadn't actually seen a driveway or anything because Scott had lead him through the woods last time. Stiles rounds the path that leads away from the house for a decent ways before it draws out a complete circle around a small sapling. The path gives it a large berth, ideally planning for its eventually thicker roots to have room to grow as they see fit. 

_ The Hale family memorial tree.  _

There's no plaque claiming that, but Stiles knows that must be what it is. He smiles sadly at it. He wonders who picked it out, and what kind of tree it is. The sapling seems to be taking to the soil fairly well, if it's many green leaves are anything to go by. 

He takes a moment to pay his respects before continuing on the path that branches off in two different directions. The stonework stops around the tree, as right in front of it is the driveway that Stiles recognizes. They’ve recycled the driveway of the old Hale house, allowing for the many cars owned by the pack to have ample room for parking and maneuvering between each other. 

Stiles wonders if Derek ( _ or any of the remaining Hales, really _ ) has ever driven up it hoping to find his old childhood home still standing. He wonders if Derek has ever been disappointed to find the pack house there instead.

There’s not much else to see here, unless he wants to leave the house behind him in favor for a walk in the preserve, so he goes back the way he came. He might as well check out the backyard too. Stiles makes his way through the mostly pine needle strewn path that had been made from many people walking it. 

Honestly, the back yard is exactly how he imagined it. 

He remembers Lydia insisting on a sitting area, but it's nothing like the architectural pieces she'd been showing him. There's a simple area laid out on a stone work patio, made of what looks like pallet wood that has been stained a dark cherry colour and littered with cushions for sitting on. It makes a stiff U shape, with a small place for what looks like it might be a firepit in the middle. He bypasses that though, once he notices the wooden swing up on the deck. 

_ That wasn’t in the original blueprints _ . He thinks, but he’s not complaining. 

It reminds Stiles of how much his mom had always been on Dad's case to build her one. That one had never been made. 

He settles onto the wooden swing, making himself comfortable on it and pulling his knees up as the wind rustles the trees. It’s close to the end of summer now, and there’s already a few leaves being blown off the branches that are tinged red or yellow. 

Stiles stares out off the deck, past the sitting area below and at the far reaches of the yard, where the trees thicken until you can’t see through them. It’s much more peaceful than the city he’d been living in until now, and for a moment the world disappears. 

It all fades until all that’s left is Stiles and the birds singing to one another. They ring of ignorance in the best kind of way, in a way that those birds are only worried about themselves and have no use for worldly dramas. 

_ It must be nice. To not have to worry about anyone but yourself. _

Stiles wouldn’t really know; because even being on his own in Canada, he’d still worry about the world around him. About his dad, and the pack. 

_ They seemed to have been doing just fine without me, though.  _

Stiles makes sure to shove that thought back in it’s dark corner where it came from. The last thing he needed was to sulk over it. He should be grateful the pack had respected his decision and not drag him back by the ankles. Stiles thinks that it might be partially thanks to Dad on that part though, considering Scott had been on his doorstep the moment Sheriff Stilinski had told him where Stiles had been hiding himself up until yesterday morning.

He can already tell that this swing is going to be a favorite place for him, at least when no one else seems to be around. It gives him a perfect view of the preserve where he can just sit and  _ think.  _

A spot where he can get his jumbled thoughts in order. 

While he sits here he runs over the events of the past two days. Ever since Scott came for him, found out why Stiles left and brought him home to Beacon Hills; Stiles has been busy trying to figure out how everyone would react to his change. Luckily they don’t  _ seem _ too worried. After all, they were a pack of werewolves, a banshee and a former kanima. He knows though, that it wasn’t so much the acceptance that had worried him. 

It was because Stiles had  _ no control  _ and wasn’t human anymore. 

He wasn’t some guy who got hairy and and had a pack of bffs for life. He drank  _ blood _ now. He’d  _ killed _ a person, and had to feed off wildlife in order to not go on a fucking  _ rampage.  _

_ He was a monster now.  _

“I thought vampires were supposed to turn to ash in the sun.” Isaac says from the doorway. He’s closing the glass door behind him and approaching before Stiles even looks his way. He looks up to see the blonde sitting down beside him on the swing, jostling a little on its chains as he gets comfortable beside Stiles. Isaac gives the seat a gentle push to rock it slowly. 

“No ashes, sorry. I will admit though that it gives a killer migraine sometimes.” Stiles drifts his eyes back to the trees. 

Isaac seems to want to say something, and Stiles has a feeling he knows exactly what it is. He waits him out though, because one thing that will probably never change is the way Isaac has a tendency to be wary of most social situations in which he wants something. 

_ Same old Isaac. Sarcastic asshole on the daily until he wants something, then he’s just as much a kicked puppy as Scott was. _

“I’m sorry.” It comes out after nearly ten minutes of nothing but birds chattering in the trees ahead of them. Stiles nods quietly and looks over. 

“It’s ok.” It was more than okay, knowing Isaac hadn’t hesitated to protect the pack. Isaac from before probably would have been more out to just protect Scott and Allison, not the pack as a whole. 

“It’s not. I should have let you explain. It’s just… I don’t know if Scott told you but- back in January there was this…” Stiles recalls what Isaac called him when he’d seen Stiles for the first time. 

_ “You really think we’ll fall for that again? Show yourself, witch!”  _

“Witch? I’m guessing, since you called me that when I first got here.” 

“A… yeah. Any ways she… or well-  _ it.  _ It did something and made itself  _ look _ like you. Hell it even  _ smelled  _ like you. It was fucking creepy.” Stiles nods. A monster wearing his face. 

_ Not much different than now. _

“And when you saw me, looking and smelling just a little off key-”

“I thought it was back. Yeah. Scott might be the alpha but… when it comes to family he’s blind.” Stiles smiles a little. He wonders if Isaac even notices how much he sounds like Scott, when he calls the pack a family. 

“Yeah. I mean, don’t get me wrong. I missed you guys-  _ all  _ of you. But… this  _ thing _ that I am now…” Isaac frowns, Stiles can see in his peripheral. “It’s not like being a wolf, Isaac. Scott doesn’t get it. I literally need to drink blood to survive. If I don’t-” Stiles shakes his head, fidgeting with his fingers. 

He’s tried not drinking blood before. It was a good thing he’d been close enough to the woods that he’d caught some deer and not a pair of hikers instead. Even his memory of what happened was shaky. One moment he’d been shaky and pale standing in his bedroom, the next he’d been standing over the carcass of three deer. 

Since then he’s had a hunting schedule, one that Scott threw off when they’d made an impromptu road trip across the continent. 

Even now, after having fed just yesterday before he’d seen Dad, Stiles can feel that throbbing  _ want _ in his head. It’s the same urge that draws his eyes unwillingly to Isaac’s neck, locking onto the pulse there that he can hear throb loud and clear. 

Stiles looks back to the trees again, honing his sensitive ears to the birds chattering again in the trees. Isaac doesn’t comment on his behaviour, they just sit there quietly for a while.

“You’re not a monster, Stiles.” 

He glares at a group of black birds that fly towards and eventually over them. Nothing Isaac could say would change what he was now. Isaac didn’t understand that even sitting here, with the little control Stiles had- he still was having a hard time not zeroing in on Isaac’s pulsing heartbeat beside him. It almost felt like the beat was vibrating the very wood they were sitting on. 

“Don’t.” He says quietly, effectively closing off whatever Isaac was about to say. The blonde sighs, clenching his long pale fingers together in his lap. The swing slows to a stop as Isaac plants his feet and rests his forearms on his knees. The movement attracts Stiles’ eyes to the one place he keeps trying not to look. 

_ Knock it off. Isaac is pack, not a fucking cheeseburger.  _

“When I first turned, you know what the hardest part was?”

“Following Derek’s orders?”

Isaac laughs a little. “No. Well, okay. Maybe.” Stiles smirks when Isaac tilts his head in admission. “It was coming to terms to the fact that even though I’d asked for it, I wasn’t human anymore.” 

_ So maybe Isaac wasn’t so different from him as he thought. _

“Why are you telling me this?” It still wasn’t the same. Isaac had found an anchor, bound himself to it and no longer struggled on the daily with control. Whenever Stiles thought of an anchor his dad came to mind. When he thought of his dad all he could think of was how he’d smelled, of the gut wrenching guilt he felt now in place of the worried look on Dad’s face. The smell of mom’s lilac perfume was like a phantom pain to a limb he’d never known was missing.

When Stiles thought of his Dad, most importantly he couldn’t help but wonder if that coffee smell permeated through to his blood too. 

Stiles swallows drily. 

“I think you know why. You’re not an idiot Stiles, and I find it hard to believe that with all your  _ experience _ -” He scoffs at Isaac. “That you seriously don’t think you can control this.”

“That’s what you think, huh?” Stiles can’t help the mean tone his voice adopts.

“Yeah. It is.” 

“And you know everything, right? Everyone has me so figured out.” 

Isaac shakes his head with exasperation. “No, but you’re pack. And that means that even if you’re going to be a dick about it, we’re going to try and support you. So quit sulking already.”

“I’m not sulking.” He is sulking. Stiles hates that Isaac can read him so well too, because he’s used to be the one doing the reading. When Isaac leaves, he pauses for a minute to touch Stiles’ shoulder.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s not like this is the first time we’ve had to help someone.” Ever the eloquent and gentle-worded. Stiles rolls his eyes only when he’s sure Isaac’s back turned. When the sliding glass door closes behind him, Stiles notices the faint smell of oranges and grass that lingers. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you think? Was it what you were expecting? (reminder that this is a slow burn fic! it will be a sloooooooow uptake on the sterek business) 
> 
> Don't forget to:  
> LEAVE KUDOS  
> COMMENT  
> AND BOOKMARK 
> 
> you can also visit me on tumblr @ misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I would say I’m sorry in advance- in case this uh, really hurts you? But I mean…” Stiles smirks trailing off, gesturing to Jackson. The guy could afford to be taken down a notch or two.   
> “Play nice.” Scott says but his lips twitch in betrayal as he throws a halfhearted stink eye at Stiles.   
> “Please, I think I can take it.” Jackson says

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok ok -holds hands up- i come in peace! i'm sorry i basically abandoned ship on this!
> 
> I reread it a few times and am debating currently on whether or not to finish it all before going and editing it or not, but as so many people love this one and it's my Baby (capital B) i figured i should quit agonizing over this chapter that may or may not have been sitting in my docs for... ahem. a while.
> 
> PLEASE ENJOY :D

“Ready?” Stiles asks, looking at the werewolf on the other side of the yard. It’s the next day, and as much as Stiles had wanted to just  _ get on with it _ last night; Scott insisted on sitting down to supper first. By the end of it, the toll of the past few days took hold and Stiles had just gone to bed. 

“Come at me, Stilinski.” Jackson grins, having volunteered the moment Scott had declared that today they’d commit to figuring out Stiles’ abilities. Stiles is still worried about his control, because it’s thready at best. 

The only reason he agreed was because he could see Peter is sitting on the deck with a watchful eye. 

That wolfsbane and tranquilizer cocktail had put him down pretty quick, should something happen... Stiles doesn’t doubt Peter would use it again. 

It should make him upset. Instead Stiles just lets out a nervous breath, it’s relieving to not be hypervigilant about his ever growing thirst. His eyes lock onto the way Jackson’s features morph to his beta shift. 

Huh.  _ Jackson looks really fucking weird with no eyebrows. _

“I would say I’m sorry in advance- in case this uh, really hurts you? But I mean…” Stiles smirks trailing off, gesturing to Jackson. The guy could afford to be taken down a notch or two. 

“Play  _ nice _ .” Scott says but his lips twitch in betrayal as he throws a half hearted stink eye at Stiles. 

“Please, I think I can take it.” Jackson says, flashing his fangs and rolling his shoulders obnoxiously. It’s the closest to normal Stiles has felt in months. 

“Just-- Don’t say I didn’t warn you.” He insists, because  _ really _ , Stiles has no damn clue what his limits are. He’s just hoping that he doesn’t make a fool of himself or hurt anyone. There’s a moment when he can’t resist glancing over to Lydia.

Jackson opens his mouth to snark something back, but Stiles doesn’t feel like listening to it. He pulls back his fist and meets Jackson’s eye before it connects.

He’s never hit someone hard enough to send them flying before. In fact he wasn’t really expecting something to really happen but--

“Oh my  _ god- _ ” He cries staring in complete shock as Jackson falls several feet from where he’d been, flat on his back. Stiles can hear the wheeze of air Jackson makes when he hits the ground.

“Holy shit!  _ Dude! _ ” Scott says, staring just as wide eyed at the beta before Jackson snarls and gets up. He looks dazed, but otherwise fine. In seconds Jackson’s gone from where he was sprawled, launching forward and claws out.

In this same few seconds, Stiles notices several things at once. 

One; apparently his body likes to move on its own. 

Two; catching a fist might be easy in theory, but when it’s tipped with claws it fucking sucks.

Three; Jackson is a lot slower than Stiles thought he’d be. 

He catches the hand, not even registering how the claws cut him; and is throwing Jackson before he realizes he’s doing it. Stiles just stares as Jackson hits the ground again. 

He’d feel worse if it  _ weren’t _ Jackson, but  _ well. _

“Woah.” Stiles looks down at his hands as if they were someone else’s. They kind of were. All eyes are on Jackson, who was currently staggering back up with a small frown. “You okay?” Jackson nods, currently having too many teeth to really answer and returning to his ready position. To Stiles, Jackson looks like he’s about to kill him. 

Maybe it’s that small moment of panic, of remembering how fatal werewolves can really be, that something in his hindbrain just kind of…  _ clicks. _ Jackson throws himself at Stiles again, and it’s weird because Stiles has never thought of himself as the type of guy who was… well  _ Batman. _ He was Robin. 

He was  _ always  _ Robin. 

Except now apparently. It’s as if Jackson is moving in slow motion, and Stiles doesn’t really wait to question it, dodging two claws and grappling the wolf to the ground. One arm locked around Jackson’s neck and the other holding one of the wolf’s arms to his back. 

Still there’s… there’s something bugging him. 

“Okay. Wait though-” Stiles lets off Jackson, whose face is red with anger. Jackson doesn’t look like he wants to wait though, he’s lunging again. It’s starting to become clear to him why he’s not one of the higher ranked fighters. Jackson is pretty easy to read when it comes to fighting.

He sees the next swing coming before Jackson even throws it and he catches it easily. It’s an alien feeling, being able to stop  _ The _ Jackson Whittemore former highschool tyrant that should be able to beat him to a pulp. Stiles is having a hard time believing this is real-- even with his new dietary changes. 

Jackson manages to catch him with his claws again but Stiles still pins him easily. Dad would be proud to see how much stiles had actually learned from all those self defense lessons.

“Why won’t you go all out? I mean--” He helps Jackson up again, gesturing him. “You’re moving so  _ slow _ .”

If they were going to go easy on him, what was the point of any of this? 

Peter snorts from his seat on the deck. “Stiles, he’s  _ not  _ going easy on you.” 

He glares at the elder Hale. “Um, yeah? He--” Stiles points at Jackson accusingly. “You  _ are _ . Dude! I’ve seen how fast you are! And right now, it’s like you’re not even  _ trying!”  _ Stiles can feel his gums ache as his temper rises. This is supposed to be  _ serious.  _ He doesn’t want to be handled with the Kid Gloves.

Jackson growls at him, trying to hit him again and Stiles glares, feeling the heat in his pupils as they flash. “If we’re going to do this-” Jackson pulls his fist back, holding it in his other hand. His pupils are flash bright blue back at Stiles. He shifts back so his words aren’t slurred. 

“I  _ am _ moving fast!” He yells back. Stiles frowns at him, opening his mouth to argue. “Dumbass, you really think I wouldn’t love to kick your ass? You don’t even realize that you’re the one who is basically just a fucking  _ blur! _ ” 

He can feel his own face contort as he looks between Jackson and the others for confirmation. Peter is still grinning at him. Ew.

“I’m confused.” He says. Stiles wasn’t doing anything different than he usually does. In fact, he actually felt like  _ he _ was moving too slow, and not for the first time he looks at his own hands like they’re alien.

“Jesus--” Jackson swears, Stiles looks down at Jackson’s fist that he’d been clenching in his hand and balks at it. 

Hands are definitely  _ not _ supposed to bend like that--  _ Ew _ \--

_ I did that. _ Stiles feels a bit sick. And then he feels worse because part of him feels excited at these new powers. Powers that were designed to overpower most creatures so he could drink their blood- to  _ kill- _

“I-” Stiles frowns and then looks to Scott for confirmation. The alpha is looking at him in a way Stiles doesn’t think he’s ever seen. It’s not his usual goofy smiles or his ‘ _ I’m being serious but also trying not to smile at you, Stiles _ ’  face. 

This is the look of an alpha studying a predator. 

“Well  _ I _ for one would like to see just what  _ else  _ you can do.” Peter chimes, breaking the tension. Stiles swallows and looks to him, if only because the act offers a bit of submission to the alpha on the sidelines as he drops his eyes from that red tinged gaze. 

“I’m not going to beat you guys up in the name of science.” He says. There’s only so much guilt one guy can handle. 

“You really need to get out more.” Peter says, standing with a loud sigh. Stiles crosses his arms and turns his body fully to the man, raising a brow. 

“What did you have in mind?”

Peter grins in a way that makes Stiles’ always cold skin prick with paranoia. His eyes burn for a second. Peter’s answer in kind, flashing back at him and accepting the unspoken challenge. And okay, if it’s Peter he’s beating the crap out of--

Stiles might just be okay with that. 

_ “Peter--” _ Scott’s voice is tight with warning. 

“Let him.” Derek cuts in from the steps, seeming just as curious as his uncle to figure out just how strong Stiles really was. 

“You’re sure?” Scott hedges, it weird hearing Scott considering Derek’s opinion instead of seeing it as a nuisance.

“Yeah, Scott. It’s fine.” Stiles agrees. If things get out of hand, then Peter is exactly who Stiles would want to be against anyways. The man is equipped for this. 

“You heard him, off you go, pup.” Peter chirps to Jackson. His hand is already healing. It reminds Stiles of a kicked puppy with his tail between his legs, the way Jackson retreats to the sitting area on the rock patio. 

Unlike Jackson, Peter doesn’t antagonize him. One moment the man is there, former Left Hand to Talia Hale, and the next-- He’s not. 

Stiles listens carefully, but there’s a clutter of sounds to sort through, absorbing his attention. The other pack members’ heart beats and breaths mix with the sounds of the preserve around him.

The only real reason Stiles can pick out Peter’s is because it’s similar to his own that is now just a  _ touch  _ too slow for the average heartbeat. 

He smells him before Peter attacks, but he’s satisfyingly faster than Jackson. 

“Impressive.” Peter hums, feinting his attack at the last moment. Stiles has never had to do closed combat. He has no clue what to  _ do _ with his hands-

Stiles objectively ignores the sound of victory from Jackson as Peter’s fist connects with his jaw. He feels his head snap backwards from the force before the blow really settles into his skin.

_ Son of a bitch! _ Stiles’ instincts react, taking hold of Peter before the wolf can pull his fist back. He catches him by the wrist and pulls hard, bringing the wolf’s neck to his mouth easily. 

“Stiles!” Scott snaps in warning. Yet Stiles doesn’t bite. No. Peter smells too…  _ off _ . 

He doesn’t want this blood. It’s not full of the life-essence his body craves. It smells like whiskey and dirt and ozone. Still, Stiles’ fangs touch the skin in front of him, if only as a warning. 

For all he should be horrified by what he’s doing, he’s not scared. Peter isn’t either, but his satisfaction is written over his smirking face. It’s a weird moment, where no one in the clearing moves but their frantic hearts are beating fast enough to jarr Stiles out of the trance. 

“Fuck-” He starts but Peter just chuckles. 

“Well aren’t you a spry one.” Stiles glares.  _ Why hadn’t Peter used the drug on him? _

“I could have-”

“Killed me? Please. If you were going to kill me, I’m sure I’d be dead by now.”

“Stiles-” Scott starts but Peter cuts the alpha off. 

“Scott, you wanted to see his abilities. You can’t expect it to happen without a little fang.” 

“Maybe we should stop.” Stiles says. He rubs his hands over his face with frustration. Why couldn’t he just be human? Why did he have to be this… this grenade that everyone expected to go off at any second? 

“Don’t tell me you’re throwing in the towel already.” Peter makes a face at him, and Stiles can’t resist glaring back. 

The older man draws out a part of him that just can’t stop rising to his taunts- it’s kind of silly how a nearly forty or so werewolf brings out the most childish and spiteful parts of Stiles. “We’ve barely gotten started.” Peter mock pouts and Stiles has to resist the temptation of hitting the man- he’s fairly sure now that he’s fast enough not to get caught for it until Peter’s already laid out from it. 

“If I bite-”

“We’ll handle it. You seem to forget we can heal, Stiles. Quit being so  _ batty _ .” Peter rolls his eyes. His pun was terrible and Stiles is in no way amused. He’s not.

Not entirely anyway. 

“Fine.” He concedes. Stiles reminds himself that this is as much for their benefit as for his own. If they understand his limits they’ll understand how to deal with the coven. “How are we supposed to do this then? Just sparring? Because honestly I don’t even know anything about closed combat.” 

Peter’s eyes flash, almost playfully. “Just follow your instincts.” Then he’s gone again. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thoughts?? I'm still not sure when i'll be updating this and right now it doesn't have a schedule <3 please don't chase me with pitchforks lol 
> 
> Don't forget to COMMENT, LEAVE KUDOS and SHARE! 
> 
> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


	7. Chapter Seven

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wolf chuffs at Stiles a little, to break his reverie with a playful nudge. 
> 
> “Alright, but I’m not getting naked. Some of us have class.” He says.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welcome back! 
> 
> Due to popular demand I've been writing like a madman to finish this chapter! I loved reading all your big beautiful comments! Thank you so much for keeping up with this story everyone!
> 
> I really hope you enjoy this chapter!

“Again!” Peter barks when Stiles hits the ground for the nth time. A primal part of Stiles breaks the surface as his lips pull back lets loose this nasty sounding hiss as his eyes burn hot, not fading this time. 

 

Peter’s answering growl only stokes the fire. 

 

_ Enemy.  _

 

_ Attack.  _

 

_ Fight.  _

 

He’s not panting, though, like he should be, if he were still human. Peter, on the other hand, is breathing hard and loud. 

 

An easy target. 

 

When the werewolf lunges again Stiles doesn’t even need to look. He twists to the side, dodging the claws and pirouetting so he can kick Peter from behind. It lands solid and there’s a definitive crunching sound.

 

Peter’s head hangs for a second and Stiles worries he really hurt the wolf.

 

But the man doesn’t fly from the move like Jackson had, he just stands there absently for a long second. And then suddenly, he’s grabbing Stiles’ foot and yanks him hard, his claws sinking into Stiles’ calf. 

 

He can feel the air rush out of him in surprise before he even registers the sound he makes from it. 

 

“Nice move,” Peter smirks. He tries to twist away but he’s trapped and all he gets for his trouble is falling onto the grass. Again. “Next time, don’t hesitate to follow it up.” 

 

Stiles hisses in annoyance, shutting his eyes against the bright sun. They’ve been at this for what feels like forever. 

 

“Maybe you guys should take a break.” Allison suggests, from where she’s been watching them. After the first twenty minutes most of the pack had moved on, their curiosity satisfied for now. All that was left was Scott, Allison, Lydia and Derek. 

 

Peter tilts his head in her direction but doesn’t drop his eyes from Stiles’. Stiles refuses to be the first to look away either. “Need a break?” He taunts. 

 

“I’m not the one breathing like he just ran a marathon.” Stiles bites back, taking the moment of distraction and using his trapped leg to knock Peter over and sit on top of the man’s chest. The sound Peter makes as the air whooshes out of his chest is  _ very _ satisfying. 

 

“Maybe Ally is right, you’ve been at this a while.” Scott says. Stiles smirks at Peter, whose heart he can both hear and feel beating hard and fast. 

 

“Need a break?” Stiles parrots back. Peter growls deeply at him. He tries to get up but in this position Stiles finds it particularly easy to keep the man pinned down. “Huh. This whole super strength stuff is kind of fun.” He says. 

 

He feels pretty damn smug when Peter only growls louder. 

 

“Stiles, let him up.” Scott sighs. 

 

Stiles glances up at his alpha, but his eyes get immediately drawn over to Derek instead. Derek who is trying hard to suppress a smirk with his coffee cup. Derek whose heartbeat elevated. The wind blows in his direction suddenly all Stiles can smell is pine, and whiskey and something spicy and heady. 

 

Stiles sucks in a deep breath and can feel his eyes burn white-hot. 

 

It’s like an out of body experience, the way he feels alien in his own skin as it prickles. He watches the way Derek swallows his coffee, and then on the way those lips form words. Words that are being spoken to… Him? Him. 

 

Derek is  _ talking  _ to him. 

 

Startled, Stiles blinks hard. He’s barely croaked, “What?” before the world flips suddenly and he hits the ground  _ hard. _ He grunts and snarls at Peter again, who’s looking a bit more serious now. His arms lock Stiles in a tight hold, as if truly worried that he’d break free and… What? Attack?

 

_ Right _ . He’d forgotten for a moment, what he was. Peter was just trying to keep the pack safe. From  _ him _ .  

 

“Alright. That’s enough for today.” Scott says again, with more authority. Stiles sighs in defeat and stays on the ground after Peter lets him go. 

 

“Tomorrow, then.” Peter says, wiping his hands together. “I’ll show you some basic hand to hand techniques.” He retreats back into the house and, presumably all the way to the third floor where he prefers to hide away.

 

“Fant _ astic _ .” Stiles mutters, glaring up at a flock of birds that pass overhead. 

 

He lays there for a while, letting the aches sink into his bones. It feels good to feel something again. He listens to everyone move around on the porch, as their footsteps recede into the house in a small parade of creaking wood, fading scent trails, heartbeats and the glass patio door sliding open with a rattle-squeak.

 

Stiles focuses on his own heartbeat, it’s too-slow  _ ba-thump ba-thud _ rhythm seems louder now that he’s alone. For a moment he wonders what his heart used to sound like before he was this…  _ thing  _ he is now. The grass is particularly comfortable here, and he catalogues all his sore muscles while he lays there. Maybe one day his heart will just stop completely, it would be fitting after all, since he’s not even alive anymore. 

 

He feels like an imposter in his own skin, a puppet whose strings drip with stolen blood. He lifts his hand in front of his face, staring at it and then looking to the cloudy sky behind it, looking for said strings.

 

“Are you just going to lay there?”

 

Stiles flinches, before he frowns and arches his neck to look back at the deck. Derek’s still sat on the porch with his coffee, his book still open. Stiles had thought everyone had gone inside. 

 

“Kind of, yeah.” He looks back up to the clouds and dropping his hand. “Wanna join?”

 

“I try not to make it a habit of looking like a moron, so no.” Stiles rolls his eyes at Derek’s condescending tone. “I think I’m fine where I am.”

 

Stiles scoffs and goes back to ignoring Derek. From here he can hear the animals in the preserve moving around. When he closes his eyes enough to concentrate, he filters away Derek and the pack inside the house. The deep buzzing of a bumble bee catches his attention. He listens to the hymn it sings as it goes about its mission for pollen. 

 

The buzzing eventually fades away, and he opens his eyes again when Derek’s chair squeaks quietly. The werewolf steps off the porch and Stiles keeps his eyes up at the clouds as he approaches. The one directly above him kind of looks like a dog.

 

Huh. Cloudwolf.

 

“Thought you didn’t want to look like a moron.” He mutters when Derek sits beside him. The man doesn’t answer. Stiles breathes deeply in through his nose. This is the closest he’s been to Derek his return. 

 

His scent is almost… intoxicating. He tries not to be too obvious as he takes a deeper breath, trying to disguise it as a deep sigh.

 

Derek doesn’t say anything. Stiles glances up at him. Derek isn’t looking at him, so he takes a moment to take in his appearance. He looks more comfortable in his own skin now, as if something that has always been buzzing just underneath it has finally been soothed. 

 

He wishes he knew what it was. He wishes for the first time that he’d been around to witness it. Derek is staring out at the trees, and his mouth is set in a downturned line. His eyebrows tell Stiles he’s actually thinking of something serious. 

 

“What’s with the face?” He asks, sitting so his arms support his weight. Even as he speaks, Stiles can practically taste Derek’s scent on the air. It tastes like the woods and something spicy. Derek’s eyebrows twitch before he twists to look at Stiles. 

 

“That night—“ Derek starts, and Stiles’ smile falls. He can feel his already slow heart squeeze, and it physically hurts him. “What happened?”

 

He turns away from pressing green eyes. “I told you guys already.” He rubs his chest thoughtlessly, trying to soothe the ache.

 

Derek should just drop it. Stiles didn’t want to talk about it. Didn’t want to talk about  _ him. _ When he closes his eyes he can see the same terrified face that haunts him at night. 

 

_ Donovan _ . 

 

“Stiles…” He starts. 

 

“No,” Stiles clenches his fingers, lets the nails bite into his palms and focuses on the pain. “Derek, we’re not talking about it.” 

 

It must be something in his voice, hell, maybe his scent. Derek seems to find the answer he wanted because he nods once before standing up and— and starts... taking off his shirt? He’s taking off his shirt.

 

_ What the hell? _

 

“What the hell?” Stiles demands, flinching when the pine-whiskey-spice smelling garment lands in his lap. “What are you doing?”

 

He stares at it looking mildly horrified, forcing down the instinct screaming to pull it to his face and soak in that smell like it was water in a desert. 

 

_ “What are you doing?” _ Stiles repeats in a very manly not-squeaky voice when Derek doesn’t answer right away. He can feel something hot prick the back of his neck as more skin is revealed. Derek is toeing off his sneakers.

 

“C’mon.” Derek says smugly, nodding his head towards the woods. “We’re going for a run.” 

 

“But—“ What the hell does that have to do with  _ nudity!? _

 

Derek unbuttons his jeans and Stiles feels the heat on the back of his neck sink down and curl into his stomach. He tells himself it’s the sun. That it’s second hand embarrassment from seeing Derek stripping his clothes. Reminds himself that he doesn’t experience heat these days.

 

“Uh—“ Stiles barely has enough brain function to look away, and glares at his shoes when Derek makes a small noise of amusement. 

 

“Let’s go,” Derek’s voice says, but after some frankly  _ grotesque  _ sounds, Stiles looks back over and a large blue eyed wolf is standing where Derek had been. 

 

His coat is sleek and black, that somehow only gets darker, an impossibly obsidian hue on his face and snout. It makes those dreadful sapphire eyes all the more haunting.

 

The wolf chuffs at Stiles a little, to break his reverie with a playful nudge. 

 

“Alright, but I’m not getting naked.  _ Some _ of us have class.” He says. 

 

It breaks the tension between them, and earns him a rough shove from the wolf before it bounds off in front of him. Stiles laughs a little, and glances back to the house for just a second to see Scott watching them from the kitchen window. 

 

Derek chuffs at him from edge of the trees and Stiles raises his hand to Scott before turning and jogging to catch up. “I’m  _ coming! _ Jeez.”

 

Impatientwolf.

 

Running with Derek as a wolf is different than their last run. That time it had been about seeing what he could do, a race to the finish. This time they’re just too lithe predators, moving through the shadows and letting the forest acknowledge them in it’s silence. The forest feels like it’s holding its collective breath in anticipation.

 

Stiles doesn’t wait for Derek to lead this time, he loosens his control and allows himself a moment where the monster creeps to the surface. His eyes burn white-hot as his vision shifts, fading in color and sharpening in quality. 

 

His ears fill with the heartbeats of prey hidden in their homes and their nervous soft little chitters. It’s not enough to protect them from the two hunters prowling the preserve tonight. Off to his left somewhere he can hear Derek’s paws hitting the ground. 

 

He can feel the pricks at the base of his skull that another predator is with him, a cold sharp pain that tells him:  _ LOOK. THERE. _

 

Stiles turns his head to the side without stopping his feet and his fire-red eyes meet that haunting sapphire-blue. Stiles can’t resist baring his fangs at him, an almost giddy-grin while he remembered all those nights on full moons. The pack would always run together while he stayed back with the other members of #TeamHuman. 

 

Those nights were usually full of howls and play fighting. In the peaceful serene of moonlight, their cacophony of snarls and howls could be heard all night long. Now that Stiles is a little less breakable, he imagines what that would be like. 

 

Would they even let a monster like him run with them?

 

His thoughts dissipate when a muzzle prods at his stomach. Stiles flinches, hard. He shifts back and realizes he's stopped running, frozen in place when they’d made eye contact. 

 

“I’m fine.” He lies, smiling to Derek and scritching behind the wolf’s ears. The wolf rumbles deep in his chest, seeming a little unhappy. Stiles chooses to ignore it in favor of kneeling in front of the big wolf. “You’re adorable.” He mocks, using both hands to squash Derek’s loose cheeks together and then ruffling is ears a bit roughly.

 

Derek pulls away with a loud snort before shaking himself from nose to tail. Clearly he’s not nearly as amused by being called adorable as Stiles is.

 

“You are. Don’t deny it.” 

 

Derek chuffs again and nips at Stiles’ shirt, pulling it and then dancing away. Stiles narrows his eyes at him. 

 

They meet eyes for a short second, before that heady spicy-forest smell returns and Stiles easily shifts back to his monstrous form. His fire red eyes burn before Derek takes off quick and he can’t resist the pull to chase. 

 

Where Derek is noisy, and quick; he’s just not quick enough. Stiles is quieter than him, his calm heartbeat never gives him away and his feet seem to float more than crunch over the preserve floor. Where Derek’s nose leads him down twisting paths, Stiles relies on his ears to dictate his choices. 

 

It’s almost  _ too  _ easy to find Derek, who has suddenly paused in a large clearing that has mostly tall grass on either side. Stiles watches him closely from where he’s perched on the arm of a tree. 

 

Derek’s head tilts to the side before scenting the air. Stiles can see the confusion on his face, maybe wondering if he lost Stiles. 

 

And then-- just when Derek passes him obliviously; Stiles leaps. 

 

“GOTCHA.” He cries and the wolf lets out a startled yelp before they tumble to the ground and roll together. 

 

Stiles lands on his back, and his side aches a little from the six foot drop. But it’s all worth the dirty look that Derek manages to throw at him with his wolfy face. Something about a wolf sporting Derek Hale’s bitch face makes a bubble of laughter burst out of him. 

 

For a second he can feel his own face twist in confusion before realizing the sound came from his own mouth. Stiles smothers it quickly but it doesn’t stop another snort of laughter erupting from him, like an unstoppable force was expelling out of him.

 

The wolf glares at him from where he’d fallen onto his side and then he rolls up on to four paws, all during Stiles’ roar of laughter. He shakes his coat and then moves until he’s stood over Stiles. Derek growls once, and Stiles tries to muffle the laugh. 

 

It’s been so long since he’s laughed like this that it sounds like someone else’s voice. It feels like a warm hug; but that might also be the hot breath of the wolf whose staring down at him with a tilted head. 

 

Stiles purses his lips and tries to rub away his grin with his index finger. 

 

“I totally scared the shit out of you.” He says. “Some big bad wolf, you are.” Derek huffs loudly, before snuffling against Stiles’ cheek. “Ah! Hey!” He complains, and it seems his complaints only egg Derek on. 

 

The wolf presses his nose against Stiles’ ears, his hair and eyebrows, snuffling and panting before drawing back and chuffing again at him. 

 

For some reason Stiles had always thought that wolves barked like regular dogs, but now he’s starting to realize they don’t. He never really spent this much time with Derek when he was in this shifted form. 

 

Maybe this was one of the many things that had changed while he was gone. Maybe Derek had finally learned to accept himself and, quite possibly, forgive himself. Stiles feels a swirl of longing for that. If it were anyone other than Derek he might have even felt jealous. 

 

“You--” He starts to say but he can feel that same cold prickle at the base of his skull as when he’d taken notice of Derek in the woods. 

 

A predator. 

 

Again his instincts snarl and battle to the surface. His face shifts without Stiles’ permission.

 

Stiles can feel himself move before he can think, his going body rigid and tense as he got to his feet. Derek looks confused, maybe even a little hurt; before growling. Stiles could hear them before he could see or smell it. 

 

_ LOOK. THERE. DANGER. _

 

His instincts draw his face up into a nasty snarl that probably would have hurt if it weren’t more natural in this form. It felt like his jaw could unhinge and it allowed him to showcase his sharp fangs easily, much like the pythons he remembered seeing at the zoo as a kid.

 

A brown skinned man stands on the other edge of the clearing. His hair is braided intricately all cascading down his left side while the other half of his head is completely shaved and marked with scars that raked back from his temple to his neck. The scars are four thick parallel marks, familiar to both of them. A werewolf gave the man those. 

 

The man though, is decidedly  _ not _ a werewolf. Which might be a little bit comforting considering how his eyes burn red. Stiles breathes in deeply, as if his ears hadn’t already told him what he needed to know about the stranger. He smelled of cloying perfume and beneath that; death.

 

A vampire.

 

“Derek.” Stiles mutters, hand grabbing the wolf by the scruff. His hackles are drawn up high and hard. He growled menacingly, probably thinking of throwing himself at the intruder.  _ “Don’t.” _

 

“Best put a leash on that mutt of yours, fledgling.” The man’s accent is french, the way his words roll off his tongue was probably a useful tool when seducing his prey.

 

“Are you part of the coven I’ve been hearing so much about?” Stiles asks.

 

“You might say that.” The man steps deeper into the clearing, tilting his head inquisitively. It’s chilling how unnatural still and silent he is. “You could also say that I’m simply a curious onlooker, passing by. It’s not everyday you see a vampire running with a pack of dogs.”

 

Derek snarls again but Stiles is pushing in front of the wolf. Pulling Derek behind him, much to the wolf’s dismay. 

 

“Oh?” The vampire smiles like a lioness would her prey. “Protective of this one are you? A shame they can’t properly help you. Their life force calls to you, doesn’t it?” The man’s steps pause when he’s almost halfway across the clearing.

 

He tightens his hand on Derek’s fur, wishing it wasn’t true. But it was, everytime he was near the pack he felt like he’d burst out of his skin. Especially around Derek these days. The simple thought of it makes Donovan’s terrified scream echo in his head. 

 

_ “NO PLEASE! STOP. STO--CHK-- AH-- AGH--” _ The choking and gagging warbled in his mind while he just smiled at the man.

 

Stiles commits him to memory, taking in his vivid appearance. The man wears a baby blue blazer, adorned with a white and green floral pattern. His shirt is tastefully black, with metal pieces attached to a chain are attached to the collar. His shoes are black. His pants also black, most likely to manage the blood spills. 

 

“What do you want?” Stiles takes a small backwards, still forcing Derek back. The wolf really isn’t happy with how Stiles is sinking his claws into his fur. Too bad, Stiles wasn’t letting him get killed by this man.

 

There was something… About the man that made him feel afraid. Even for a predator he seemed far too at ease for someone who was outnumbered.

 

“Me? Oh, I thought that was obvious,” suddenly the man is close, from one blink to the next he’s a foot away, blinking his red eyes at Stiles. “I want you.” The cloying perfume makes him want to gag. Derek roars and Stiles loses his grip on him. He circles behind the man angrily. “A fledgling that has somehow managed to survive on animal blood alone? A very intriguing creature.” 

 

The man looks over his shoulder at the wolf with distaste. 

 

“I can’t imagine doing the same. There’s just something about the idea of wet dog that leaves a bad taste in my mouth.” Stiles pushes the man back with one hand-- or well, tries to. The man might as well be made of stone, cold to the touch and immovable. 

 

“Good to hear it. Sounds like we’re both going to be just peachy going our own ways.” The man snatches up Stiles’ wrist and pulls it to his mouth. 

 

“Not quite--” Derek snarls ferociously, the roar that rips out of his throat is absolutely deadly before he’s pouncing on the vampire. 

 

“DEREK.” Stiles shouts. The man doesn’t let go of his wrist, turning and throwing Derek like he was no heavier than a wet piece of paper. A horrible yelp leaps out of Derek before he hits a tree and collapses. 

 

The wolf doesn’t move again. Stiles can feel his breath catch in horror. 

 

“Now then. That wasn’t very nice.” The man sighs.

 

“I left you alone for a few minutes, and you’ve already found trouble, haven’t you?” A new voice asks. Stiles looks behind the man to see another vampire entering the scene. She’s taller than him, with similar braids but paler skin. Her eyes are gold and her lips are painted black. She’s carrying a set of scythes, both silver and glinting dangerously. 

 

“Ah. Kayla. I was simply introducing myself to the fledgling child from that pack of dogs.” Kayla glares darkly at her companion. Stiles is can feel the man’s icy lips against his wrist. 

 

Even with his new strength, he can’t tug his wrist free. 

 

“Azriel will not be pleased if you kill him.” Kayla says. Stiles shifts fully and tries to wrench his wrist away. 

 

“Let me go!” He demands. Kayla sighs and comes closer, eyeing Derek’s body to the side. 

 

“Bartholomeo.” Kayla’s voice is hard in warning. When Stiles is finally able to snatch back his wrist, he’s certain it’s only because the man lets him. “He’s a child. And Azriel demands we not harm him.” 

 

“You’re not very fun, Kay.” Bartholomeo complains. Stiles wants to throw himself at him rip out his throat and end it here. But he’s barely even shown his fangs before Kayla levels one of her scythes at him. 

 

“That wouldn’t be wise. Especially while your friend is injured.” She nods towards Derek. 

 

Stiles feels helpless as they both leave, purring something about sending their greetings to his alpha. He blurs it all out though. The moment the two vampires are gone he’s at Derek’s side and trying not to panic. 

Derek has shifted back from his wolf form, and Stiles doesn’t care too much for his nudity this time. All he cares is that Derek is hurt and he’s not waking up. 

 

By the time they reach the house Scott is completely wolfed out and Stiles feels like crying. They get him inside and everything after that fades out. He locks himself in his room and stays there the rest of the night. No one can convince him to come out, and he refuses all visitors, even Cora. 

 

This was all his fault. He should have known that coming here would only ask for trouble. A monster like him should never have come home. Should never have endangered the pack. Bartholomeo was right, a vampire had no place running with wolves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUN DUN DUNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNnn :D
> 
>  
> 
> Don't forget to COMMENT, LEAVE KUDOS and SHARE! 
> 
> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! What do you think will happen next??
> 
> COMMENT and let me know!
> 
> i'm [misfitmonarchythings](https://misfitmonarchythings.tumblr.com/) on tumblr


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